


Hogwarts Battle School

by kwanli



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-25 19:33:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1659932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kwanli/pseuds/kwanli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hogwarts Battle School offers nothing but endless challenges for Harry Potter. Headmaster Snape is always looking over his shoulder, watching his progress intently. The enemies are endless, all keen to beat the Boy-Who-Lived. He finds few friends in the Slytherin House, save for Blaise Zabini and Tracey Davis. His fiercest competitor, Hermione Granger of Gryffindor, is a ruthless rival. An unknown darkness lurks in the background. As he starts his Third Year, Harry realizes that friend and foe are too similar for his liking. Competing with allies and enemies, Harry finds there is a cost to winning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tenth

_Book I: The Bringer of Lightning_

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Do you know why most people fail the first time around? It's because they're weak…they're scared…they're unable to face the fact that there might be someone better than them. That's what you have to understand. That's what you need to know when you enter Hogwarts Battle School. Everyone here…Muggleborn, Half-Blood, Pureblood…can beat you. Once you accept failure, then you will realize what it takes to achieve perfection. That's when you will realize that you might not win and that you will probably lose. Only then will you lose the fear of failure."

Headmaster Snape delivered the succinct speech gloomily, his scowl seeming to drop lower and lower on his face as he spoke with a quiet ferocity that silenced every single student at Hogwarts Battle School. There was no special garnishing or instructions for the school year. Everyone already knew the rules.

Win at all costs.

Harry Potter eyed the Headmaster approvingly, replaying the words over and over in his head. True, it was melodramatic and heavy-handed, but Snape had a part to play, and he played it to perfection. It was the third time Harry had heard the Headmaster's beginning-of-the-year speech, and this one was by far the best.

"Heavy as it always is," said Blaise Zabini, Harry's best friend.

"Well you know how the Hufflepuffs are. Scared shitless, the lot of them. It's a surprise they haven't all dropped out," Harry answered.

"They have to stay. Where else would they go?"

This was true. There was no school like Hogwarts Battle School.

According to some of the more tenured professors, Hogwarts was not always this way. Harry had researched it in various books in the library and found that the Hogwarts had been a mostly academic institution for the majority of its lifetime. Sure, there were little changes from Headmaster to Headmaster, but nothing as militaristic as this. But Harry knew  _why_  Hogwarts had become the way it was: the death of the great Albus Dumbledore at the hands of the self-styled Lord Voldemort.

The night before Lord Voldemort, originally Tom Riddle, made his way to Godric's Hollow, he had killed what many thought was the only defense against the malevolent wizard. So when a green-eyed baby deflected the Killing Curse and vanquished the Dark Lord, there was obviously much hubbub about the little boy.

That little boy would grow up to become Harry Potter of House Slytherin.

"Where do you think you'll end up in the pre-year rankings?" asked Tracey Davis, a pretty yet combative Slytherin.

"Me? Top twenty, to be honest. Of course, nowhere near Harry." Blaise smirked, his eyes sparkling against his dark complexion.

"What you think, Harry? Top spot this year?" Tracey asked with a wink.

A voice suddenly cut in. “The Mudblood will probably take it.”

Draco Malfoy could be heard clear across the table,and Harry was sure that the nearby Ravenclaws had heard the slur. He didn't blink as his eyes flicked towards the blond boy. The arrogant smirk that Draco wore so well infuriated Harry to no end.

"Ranking Granger ahead of yourself? Did someone take a pin to your inflated head?" Blaise asked cheekily. Unlike some others, he wasn't afraid of the rich boy.

"Father wasn't too happy when Headmaster Snape visited some time ago. Surely it must be the Mudblood."

"I think Harry deserves it," Tracey said.

Draco looked at Harry with an arched eyebrow and an ever-growing grin. "What do you think, Scarhead? Snape going to give you top spot?"

It was a trick question and Harry knew it. Claim that he should have the top spot, and others would see him as arrogant and be less likely to fight for him in classes when the time came. Answer that Hermione Granger, the talented Muggleborn from Gryffindor, would place above him and everyone would see that as a sign of weakness. But Harry had sparred with Malfoy before, with words and with spells.

"Snape will give who he wants top spot. Doesn't matter, though. I'll have it at by the end of the year."

Draco snorted, a smile on his face but a disappointed glint in his eyes. "We'll see about that."

Truth be told, Harry expected to be top five at the very least. Every year, before classes officially started, an enormous ranking would be posted. There was the Master List, a list that categorized every single student of Hogwarts, no matter the year. Most Fifth Years and below didn't even bother looking at that list. None of them would crack the upper third.

Then there was the Years List. In each year, all the students were ranked from one to forty. Headmaster Snape had standardized the acceptance letters, so there were five boys and five girls accepted every year with no deviation. Spread throughout the four Houses of Hogwarts, each student would be ranked; the rank would change throughout the year depending on their performance in class and in solo and House duels.

The children that did not receive a letter to Hogwarts would be redirected to other magical schools such as the Wolping Institute in Liverpool or the Fendon Academy near Manchester. Neither of those schools held the prestige of Hogwarts, but they were options for those who had not be accepted at the revamped academy.

The Houses List was yet another metric. Each House would compete against the others for points. At the end of the year, the top House from each year would compete in a free-for-all at the end of the year in an event called the House Match. After the House Match, the top twenty students in the school would compete for the Hogwarts Trophy. The battlegrounds and conditions changed from year to year depending on how cruel the teachers wanted to be.

Harry concentrated his efforts on the House Match. There was almost no chance he would compete for the Hogwarts Trophy. The top twenty students were almost always Seventh and Sixth Years,with the rare Fifth Year thrown into the mix. If he could lead the Third Year Slytherins into the House Match, anything could happen.

At least, anything would be better than the disaster of his First Year.

"What do you think of the new Creatures teacher?" asked Theodore Nott, a taciturn but cunning boy.

Harry looked up to see the disheveled Creatures teacher. The Creatures teacher taught the students how to defend themselves against dangerous magical creatures and, in rare cases, convince those creatures to fight for them. This teacher, a Professor Lupin if Harry recalled, was looking at Snape with something akin to loathing. Then again, that wasn't new. Headmaster Snape hardly inspired love among his students or his teachers.

"Looks like a bum, to be honest." Harry chewed his meal thoughtfully as he examined the Professor's worn clothes.

There were seven classes on their class schedule. The aforementioned Creatures class was unpopular amongst students, mostly because it didn't deal with direct conflict against other wizards. There was Potions, taught by a bumbling mass of flesh called Professor Slughorn. Then there was Charms, taught by previous Dueling Champion and dwarf, Professor Flitwick. Transfiguration, by the stern and sometimes nasty Professor McGonagall. Dueling was taught by the aptly named Mad-Eye Moody. Strategy was taught by the alabaster Wendell Trow, a professor so pale that some people likened him to the now departed Professor Binns.

The remaining class was the one most people simultaneously anticipated and hated. Battle class was where all of the competitions that affected ranking and the House list took place. True, one's performance in the rest of the classes dictated a small portion of your ranking within the school, but nothing like Battle class. In Battle class, one could rise high above one's peers and even climb the ladder of the Master List. In Battle class, students were pitted against one another in various scenarios with different stipulations and restrictions. Battle class was taught by Headmaster Snape.

It was unusual for any Headmaster to teach a class, but Snape had made it his personal agenda to oversee this Battle class and keep a personal eye on the progress of his students. It was known that the top students were recruited heavily by not only the Ministry of Magic in Britain but other Ministries abroad that sought their talents. Well-trained and exceptionally good at dueling, graduates from the Hogwarts Battle School had no shortage of offers on their table, some not even associated with any form of dueling.

Harry looked up and spotted a mass of bushy hair, spotting the devastatingly clever Hermione Granger. Her claim to fame was that she was the first Muggleborn to have ever held the number-one ranking in her year for nineteen weeks straight. So strong was her grip on that top ranking during her Second Year that even Hufflepuffs had begun teasing her in the hallways in an attempt to throw her off her game. Still, she was undeterred, and by the time Hermione was toppled from the top of the list, there was no doubt she was the “Muggleborn Champion.”

Of course Draco had to have his own special name for her as he couldn't accept a Muggleborn being so dominant. He referred to her as the “Mudblood Champion,” but Harry recognized that even Malfoy was aware of her abilities.

As it happened, Granger looked up to catch Harry's eye. They held each other's gaze, green versus brown, for just a few seconds. Granger broke it off first with a curt nod. Not knowing what else to do, Harry nodded back. Though he had never spoken to Granger personally, he knew and respected her talents. Anyone who could hold the top ranking of her year for nineteen weeks straight was someone to pay attention to.

_Maybe one day, we'll meet each other in a duel_ _._

"Bets on the Master List?" offered Adrian Pucey, a Slytherin a year older than them, as he went down the table shaking a bowler hat.

Each year, everyone took bets on who would crack the top fifty of the Master List. Of course, lesser odds were given to older students and few people bet on them because the line was so flat, but around the Fifth and Fourth Years, there was plenty of action. On the rare occasion that a Fifth year cracked the top fifty in pre-year rankings, lots of money was to be made. Once, a Fourth Year had managed himself into the top fifty, but of course, no one bet on him.

"You, Potter? Bet on the Boy-Who-Lived?" Pucey smiled, showing his crooked teeth, as he shook the bowler hat in Harry's face.

Harry pushed the hat away. "No, thanks, Pucey."

"I'll put one in." Blaise grinned and produced a pouch of Galleons. "Ten Galleons on Potter."

Harry rounded on his best friend. "Blaise! What are you doing?" Harry hissed. "Don't light money on fire."

"Fire melts gold and then I'll still have gold anyways. What does it matter?"

"Fifty to one ain't bad odds, Zabini. But you're a stupid bitch." Pucey chuckled as he took the money and wrote down the bet.

"He is right, Blaise. You are stupid. Not even Harry will crack the top fifty as a  _Third Year_." Tracey shook her head, pretty dark ringlets swaying about her heart-shaped face.

"And if he does, I'm pocketing five hundred Galleons. I'll take my chances on the Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry could only sigh, used to Blaise's gregariousness. He was rich through his mother, who always somehow married a rich bloke on the verge of death. To Blaise, money was an abstract, numbers he could throw around because he wanted to. But then again, much of Slytherin was like that, born to old, rich, Pureblood families that had more money in their vaults than other wizarding families.

For a moment, Harry wondered what his life would be like if Hogwarts was just another normal school. The previous Headmaster Dumbledore had named Snape the Headmaster in a will created not so long before his untimely death at the hands of Voldemort. Some say that it was the death of Albus Dumbledore, the man who gave Snape a second chance, that fueled the scowling, hook-nosed man to reform Hogwarts into this battle school. The whispers in the hallways were that Snape feared the return of Voldemort and trained his students so if the Dark Lord or any of his Death Eater minions returned, England would not be so caught out.

Still, the Dark Lord was dead; everyone knew that.

But if the Dark Lord was dead, why did Snape send Harry to his vile aunt and uncle? When Harry was picked up at the age of eleven to attend Hogwarts Battle School, Snape had explained to him that he was sent to his only blood relatives because of the dangers of retribution from Death Eaters and to avoid anyone that sought to take advantage of his popularity when he was just a child.

He claimed no knowledge of the abuse at the hands of the Dursleys, and Harry never asked him if he knew. He wondered if Snape knew about the multitude of scars on his back.

Dinner suddenly ended although Harry could have sworn that Snape's speech was not so long ago.The food vanished and the students waited on the edge of their seats in anticipation. Everyone knew that once the opening feast ended, the lists would be unraveled in huge banners in the Great Hall. Harry spotted the green of the Slytherin banner and counted until he found the Third Years. While he didn't want to be too arrogant, he hoped that he was on the top of the list. After all, he was the one that finally wrestled first from Granger at the end of their Second Year by dueling two Ravenclaws at one time.

"Let the year begin."

The banners unraveled, rolling downwards in a carefully managed magic. Some of the students hopped on top of the benches to get a better look. Some even stood on the tables and whooped or hollered when they saw their name at the top of the list.

Harry concentrated on Third Year Slytherins and smiled when he saw himself ranked as number one. Quickly, Harry scanned the list for some other names he could recognize. Draco Malfoy was third, which would rankle the aristocratic boy. He spotted Blaise as eighteenth, and though his best friend had predicted himself in the top twenty, Blaise's grumbling revealed his discontent with the ranking.

Surprisingly, Tracey was ranked ninth, and Harry congratulated his other best friend.

Tracey blushed. ''Thanks, Harry.''

A quick scan of the list found nothing out of place from the rest of the Third Years, and predictably, Neville Longbottom was last. The awkward, buck-toothed boy could always be counted on to bring up the rear. Harry sat down, fighting back a grin as he thought the year was starting off just right. He didn't notice the sudden hush as the Master List unfurled from the rafters. Harry never paid attention to the Master List.

Most of his friends weren't really looking too, except for the ones that had placed bets on older Slytherins. Harry turned to chatter excitedly to Blaise, trying to divulge some sort of tactics to keep himself on top and raise his best friend's ranking in turn. But Blaise's mouth was hanging open as he stared at the Master List. Harry shook him on the shoulder to get his attention but Blaise was just dead weight.

"Zabini. What are you gawking at?" Harry demanded.

Blaise turned to him with eyes as wide as saucers and it was only then that Harry realized others were looking at him the same way. He looked at all of them in confusion, wondering why he was receiving  _those_  kinds of stares again. He remembered when he first entered Hogwarts and when the Hat sorted him into Slytherin. True, he was the Boy-Who-Lived and defeated Voldemort, but he thought they were all over that already. In Hogwarts Battle School, everyone started as an equal.

"Harry," Blaise croaked out as he pointed a shaky finger at the Master List.

Harry raised his eyes, the light glancing off his glasses as he looked at the black banner of the Master List. The names were tiny at a distance but magically enlarged as one's eyes roved over them. Harry started near the bottom of the two hundred and eighty students, expecting his name to at least be in the top one-fifty.

But it wasn't.

Harry kept scanning upwards, higher and higher on the black banner with the gold writing.

_125\. Hermione Granger_

_100\. Cho Chang_

_75\. George Weasley_

_50\. Penelope Clearwater_

_25\. Cedric Diggory_

_10\. Harry Potter_

"TENTH?" Harry managed to choke out.

The rest of Hogwarts was looking at him, the Boy-Who-Lived, with an amalgam of expressions. Most were in disbelief, some were in awe, and a select few were angry. Harry gulped and looked towards the Head Table to see the damning stare of Headmaster Snape. Harry swore that he could see a ghost of a smirk on Snape's face.

They would be coming for him. Not only the kids in his year but everyone above him, taunting him and bringing him down in the hallways. Harry was the first Third Year to ever to crack the top ten of the Master List at the beginning of the year. That sort of recognition did not come without a price, and he fully expected to be targeted by those who wished to disprove his ranking.

"Guess you won your five hundred Galleons, Blaise."


	2. Unpredictable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry faces off against an unpredictable opponent.

"He doesn't deserve it."

"Just Snape's little pet."

"He's nowhere near as good as me!"

"I wonder if he can fly?"

Harry could hear the whispers as he entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, and while he did his best to look unperturbed by the rumors, the smallest part of him, the part he retreated to when no one was looking, was stung by the accusations. Sure, he didn't feel like he particularly  _deserved_  tenth place on the Master List, but he had been sure someone would give him a little credit.

Judging from the immediate response, everyone thought it was a hoax.

Plopping down next to Blaise, who was far too cheerful for his liking, and Tracey, Harry dug into his food, willing himself not to look up and make eye contact with yet another doubter. To his great surprise, his breakfast was already prepared for him, the eggs scrambled and the bacon extra crispy as he preferred.

"I got the elves to cook you something up in advance. I figured you would need it," Tracey explained.

"Thanks, Trace." Harry sighed gratefully, pleased that he wouldn't have to worry about something else.

"Are you okay?" Tracey asked gently.

"Of course he's okay!" Blaise said, throwing his arm around Harry's shoulder. "Tenth place! You hear that, everyone?  _TENTH_ _!_ "

Harry shruggedoff Blaise's arm. "You're not helping," he grumbled.

"Blaise…" Tracey drew out the boy's name, a warning tone evident.

Blaise ignored her, pushing onwards, because in Blaise's mind, the only person that existed was Blaise.

"Why should Harry feel bad about it? Snape and the teachers obviously think he's better than almost all of the kids here. Do you not remember First Year?"

" _Everyone_  remembers First Year," Tracey said with such ferocity that even Blaise quailed and changed the topic.

"Well, I'm not ashamed, and my five hundred Galleons aren't ashamed either. Come on, Tracey; stick up for your friend here."

"Tracey's doing just fine; it's you that needs to shut up," Harry said lightly.

Blaise just laughed, chatting to whoever would listen about the five hundred Galleons he won by placing his bet on Harry.

"Are you okay?" Tracey asked again, leaning in to talk a little more privately with Harry.

"I'm fine. **"**  Harry brushed her off, ignoring the disappointed look on her cute, heart-shaped face.

Harry looked up at the Master List again to see if last night and the following morning was all some strange dream, but it wasn't. His name was still emblazoned in gold against the black, seeming to stand out against all of the other names.

_10\. Harry Potter_ _**–** _ _Third Year_

He could feel someone's eyes on him and turned slowly to find Snape's inquisitive gaze. What was he wondering? Did he want to know how Harry felt? Did he want to know how people were treating him? So many questions ran through Harry's mind, but he concentrated on his breakfast.  _Let Snape have his little games_ _…_ _for now_.

* * *

Taking the chance to assess the situation as soon as the clamor of his entrance had died down, Harry discreetly looked around to the different House tables. To his immediate left were the Ravenclaws, a buffer to the other two Houses, which were naturally inclined to distrust Slytherins. Ravenclaws, on the other hand, took a more neutral approach to divisive topics.

There were a few curious glances from the Ravenclaw table, but for the most part, they kept to themselves and concentrated on breakfast and the upcoming classes. No doubt they had already reasoned that placing Harry in tenth place was some sort of test by the teachers and the Headmaster. Whoever had come up with that rather sound theory would have already spread it around to all of the other Ravenclaws, subsequently disregarding Harry as just another experiment. Knowledge, or perceived knowledge, spread like wildfire amongst the Ravenclaws, and they clung to that notion.

The Hufflepuffs, naturally, were more skeptical of Harry's placement on the Master List. Though only the more radical Hufflepuffs would ever believe that it was some sort of conspiracy hatched by Harry himself, there were more than a few of them that thought Harry had somehow cheated to get himself to the top of the list. Valuing hard work and honesty above all else, they had to decide whether Harry was worthy of tenth on the Master List or that he had somehow cheated to get to the top. Fortunately, Harry didn't consort enough with Hufflepuffs to pick their brains on the matter.

Then there were the Gryffindors.

Somewhere along the line, it had been decided that Slytherins and Gryffindors just wouldn't get along. What surprised Harry was the vehemence that both Houses stuck to that long-ingrained pattern. Indeed, judging by the vicious and accusatory looks some of the Gryffindors, most notably the Weasleys, were sending his way, they didn't believe Harry deserved tenth on the Master List at all. Or twentieth. Or fiftieth. Or to be on the list at all.

Yet there was one Gryffindor who was looking at him with Ravenclaw-like curiosity. Their eyes met again for the second time in two days, and this time, she was the one that held the gaze. Her head was cocked to the side and she was biting her lip like she was concentrating, trying to gauge him. Harry recognized that expression.

_Studious. She's studying me_.

A soft voice interrupted his thoughts.  **"** Harry? **"**

Tearing his gaze away from Hermione Granger's brown eyes, he turned to find Tracey's blue ones. She followed his gaze,and spotted the Gryffindor table, though he doubted she saw who he was actually looking at.

"Don't mind them," she said with a frown on her pretty face. "They're just jealous that the best person they have in Third Year is Granger. Look at Weasley; he looks like smoke is about to come out of his ears."

Ron Weasley  _was_  quite red, glaring at Harry as he stabbed his kidney pie repeatedly. Harry could only smile at the ridiculous reaction, even going so far as to give the Weasley a small wave. Obviously, he didn't wave back.

Tracey guffawed at Weasley's sour expression. Harry, for his part, didn't think much of the second-youngest Weasley or most of the Gryffindors. He would have plenty of time to worry about them later. For now, he was content to receive his class schedule for the semester. Tracey guffawed when Harry waved. He turned away from the Gryffindor table, and they grinned at each other. Harry would have plenty of time to worry about them later. For the time being, he was content to receive his class schedule for the semester.

His first rotation for the week was Strategy class with Professor Wendell Trow, a shockingly pale but effective teacher. Strategy was generally used for its namesake: Trow discussed strategies and reviewed past duels. During a duel in Battle class, a converted set of Omnioculars recorded the duels. The information was transported to a set of twenty matching Omnioculars that surrounded the walls of Strategy class. There, students could watch not only their own duels but others as well, replaying them from different angles and slowing them down to examine technique, skills, and weaknesses.

Harry often visited Trow's class because any student could use the Stationary Omnioculars, even if there was a class in session. In his free periods and after classes, Harry spent much time poring over his own duels, trying to find ways to improve and critiquing himself as much as possible.

In his First Year, Harry had found that he was too static in his duels, often moving only a few feet in a small box as he engaged another student. It was only after looking over several duels that he realized what a disadvantage it was to stay so still. After all, it was much more difficult to hit a moving target than it was to hit something that only stayed in a certain area. There was also the added advantage of not expending energy on countless  _Protego_  shields. Dodging a spell meant conserving his own energy at the expense of his opponent's.

Of course, once others saw Harry starting to run around all over the place, they started copying his movements, mimicking his highly active approach. Thus, Harry had to come up with a different strategy, or more specifically, more specifically a set of spells that would counter such mobility. Such was the life of Hogwarts Battle School, Harry realized. It was a constant game of adjustments and fine-tuning as each student did as much as he or she could to outwit the others. There were many students who weren't nearly as studious as Harry, though none as poor as Neville Longbottom of Gryffindor.

Harry didn't bother asking Tracey or Blaise for their schedules, because everyone in his year had the same schedule. It was just a matter of which House you were paired up with for each class. Snape believed that unity within each year would help them not only improve each other, but give them them an additional incentive when competing against other Houses for the House matches. Then again, there were people like Malfoy who sought only to take the top of the list, taking out anyone above him. Seeing as Harry and Granger were the only ones who scored higher than him, Harry suspected that Draco would try at least one underhanded tactic over the course of the year.

_I have to keep an eye out_ , he thought as he saw Draco laughing at something with his two cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. Scanning down his schedule, Harry saw that he had Potions, a free period, and then Battle class at the end of the day. A jolt of excitement ran through him at the prospect of having Battle class on the first day of school. The schedules changed every two weeks so that different Houses were always matched in the classes, though it was mostly for the benefit of not being too comfortable facing a certain House all semester in Battle class.

Two loud beeps indicated that breakfast was over and classes were about to begin. According to  _Hogwarts: A History_ , the school did not have a bell system before the educational transformation, but Snape had insisted on it to keep a timely schedule. Rushing to gather his bag, Harry jogged to Strategy class with the rest of his year. As it happened, the Gryffindors were moving against the crowd to some other class for that period and they had to walk right at each other.

There was nothing said, at first, but then someone stepped on Harry's foot, then a shove on his shoulder, then another person bumped into him, then Ron Weasley decided to abandon all pretense of subtlety and got a good push right into Harry's chest.

"Watch where you're going, Potter!"

"Apologies. I didn't realize I covered the entire hallway," Harry replied blandly.

"With an ego as big as that, you might as well have."

"I'm sorry, Weasley, I'm sure he couldn't see your ugly mug over that green-eyed monster jumping on your back," Blaise said with a smirk.

"Can't be jealous of a  _cheater_ ," Ron hissed.

By that time, the Third Year Gryffindors and Slytherins had all stopped right outside of the Great Hall, facing each other in what would have been an amusing show of bravado had they been other Houses. Draco Malfoy leaned against a wall languidly with a practiced expression of boredom on his face.

"I'm with Weasley. I think Potter did cheat to get that high on the list."

Internally, Harry was impressed by how Draco could easily manipulate these kinds of situations. It was a two-pronged barb, one accusing Harry of foul play for being that high on the Master List, and the other catching Weasley in a bind because Malfoy had just agreed with him. In merely two sentences, he had managed to insult Harry and Weasley at the same time while maintaining the dignity of his House.

"Battle class is at the end of the day…with us. We'll see who's cheating then." It was Hermione Granger, stepping up to Ron's side with a blank expression on her face. Her tone betrayed nothing, only stating the facts of the situation with ruthless objectivity. For a moment, Harry wondered why she wasn't in Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor.

"I hope I draw you, Potter." Ron smiled in what must have been a supposedly intimidating manner; fortunately, Harry had seen the boy duel and thought very little of his skills.

"Funnily enough, I hope I draw you too."

With an about face, Harry walked through the rest of the crowd to find Professor Wendell Trow's classroom.

* * *

Trow coughed as he entered the room, wheezing slightly as he rubbed his hand through his thinning, hawkish white hair. While the professor was only supposed to be in his mid-thirties, his complexion aged him considerably. Despite his weak appearance, there was no doubt that Professor Trow was very knowledgeable when it came to tactics and strategy.

"Welcome, Slytherins…Ravenclaws. I trust you all had a good summer? I know I got a little sun myself, though I don't think you can see it that well…"

Laughter from the class brought a smile to Trow's pale face.

"Today, we will be focusing on large group movements. Though there are only ten of you in each House, you can easily extrapolate this situation. Generally, the side with numbers will always have the advantage, but if you are of equal numbers, what is the edge? Can anyone tell me?"

"Skill," said Tracey.

"Strategy, obviously," announced Terry Boot,as if it were truly the most obvious thing in the world.

"Unpredictability," Harry said.

Trow smiled at Harry's answer, coughing before asking, "Why do you say that, Mr. Potter? Those were all good answers, of course, but your answer intrigues me."

"If there are two armies with equal strength, then there would be an appropriate average of talent between them. If one is more skilled than the other, then that is an ingrained edge that one army can't be overcome with equal numbers. But if both armies were equally talented and equally numbered, then the advantage belongs to the army that does the unexpected."

"And do you know which House often does the unexpected?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer Slytherin but shut it when he realized that wasn't the best answer. Slytherins weren't generally known for being unpredictable. Quite the contrary: they were practiced, well rehearsed, and plotted everything to a point.

"Gryffindors," Harry said.

"Very good. **"**  Trow nodded. "Unexpectedness in battle is often associated with brave and sometimes foolhardy. There aren't any Gryffindors here, so I won't slander them for too long…hehe…but Mr. Potter does have a point. You have to keep your opponent off-guard, but you also have to keep yourself restrained. Be too unpredictable, though, Mr. Potter, and you'll find yourself with unexpected consequences."

Harry felt that he had just been rebuked, although Trow was genial in his tone. Indeed, a few of the other Slytherins were looking at him strangely for having such a Gryffindor idea, but Harry had said the first thing that came to his head. He resolved to be quieter for the rest of the class, taking in potentially useful information instead of spouting things that would question his commitment to Slytherin.

"I will show you a House match from a previous year, and you will tell me how Gryffindor errs."

Trow levitated a large screen to the front of the classroom and then started the reel that would play a House match. The robes of the two Houses showed that it was Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor. Trow joked that he would not slander Gryffindor too much despite them losing to Hufflepuff in the replay.

It wasn't as if there was no talent in Hufflepuff. There were plenty of standout academics, but as a whole, Hufflepuff did not tend to inspire the same fear as other houses.

The House match was between the Fifth Years. Harry took out his quill and a piece of parchment and jotted down some notes, but he kept his eyes glued to the screen as the match unfolded. It was set in what looked to be a boggy marsh, though Snape often changed the environments and situations during duels and House matches to keep students off-balance and challenge them with different scenarios. The Gryffindors were sprinting through the marsh, divided into two teams as they fired spells at anything that moved.

"As you can see," Trow said over the muted sound of the match, "the Gryffindors have split up into two groups that are running a pincer movement along this river. What are they trying to do?"

"Catch the Hufflepuffs in a crossfire," Tracey said immediately. Harry nudged her knee, winking at her to tell her that he was impressed with her quick answer.

"Correct, Ms. Davis. I will be showing this from the Gryffindor perspective so you have an idea of what they were facing. Now, the Gryffindors have encountered what looks to be a group of Hufflepuffs behind this series of fallen logs. What do you think they should do?" Trow paused the playback, looking at the class expectantly for answers.

"Logically, they should complete the pincer movement and converge on the Hufflepuffs from both sides…but the Hufflepuffs should recognize this movement and try to rebuff them. Then it becomes a matter of how well their defenses hold. **"**  Anthony Goldstein walked through the process, revealing his Ravenclaw nature as he broke down the movement step by step.

"Correct again, Mr. Goldstein. So instead of completing the pincer movement, the Gryffindor team on the left side of the bank aggressively pushes forward to try and flank the Hufflepuffs behind their log defense. Thus is the nature of Gryffindor unpredictability. Can someone from each House critique that movement?"

"It is a movement with a high risk-reward ratio," Lisa Turpin of Ravenclaw answered. "The Gryffindors on the left bank break the shape of their attack and try to pincer from a side they perceive as weak, but if the Hufflepuffs catch on, then the Hufflepuffs just have to go back-to-back to face the Gryffindors. It all depends on whether the Hufflepuffs can see the flanking maneuver."

"I think it's idiotic," Draco replied arrogantly. "Why would you risk throwing away the match with something so pointless? If it were me, I would have just stuck with the pincer movement and slowly closed them in. They are Hufflepuffs, after all; it's not like they're going to break the defense."

_That's your limitation, Draco. You can't see past the obvious. Trow is trying to teach us a lesson_ _,_ _but you always think you have the answer already._ Harry kept that thought to himself, though, as he studied the situation, trying to read what Trow was trying to tell them. Unfortunately, Harry had to agree with Draco. The movement that had the highest chance of succeeding and lowest chance of failure would be to stay with the pincer movement and slowly whittle away the Hufflepuffs. What could Trow be trying to teach them?

"So, how many would stay with the pincer movement?" Trow asked.

Roughly three-quarters of the class raised their hands: almost all of the Slytherins and a majority of the Ravenclaws. Unlike Tracey or Blaise, Harry didn't raise his hand. Tracey caught this,and her hand wavered in uncertainty as it was raised, but she kept it up, not wanting to look foolish.

"What are you thinking, Harry?" she asked quietly.

"There has to be a better way.  _Unpredictability_ _._  What would be unpredictable here?" Harry muttered to her.

The Gryffindors could come together in one formation and attack them straight? That would be idiotic. The Hufflepuffs had a defensible location. Break into three groups, keeping two groups as smaller pincers and having a smaller group try and flank? Yes, that could work. Perhaps that was the answer.

"Any other answers?" Trow asked; Harry raised his hand;  **"** Mr. Potter? **"**

"What about breaking into three groups? Two of them keep the pincer movement going while one or two Gryffindors try to flank and take the Hufflepuffs. The pincers would be weaker and unlikely to overwhelm the defending Hufflepuffs, but it would at least provide cover for the small group that's flanking."

Harry saw a few Ravenclaws nod at the assessment, agreeing with his logic. Some of the Slytherins, too, cocked their heads as they reexamined the screen, trying to visualize what Harry had said.

"That would be a good maneuver, but is not an  _unpredictable_  maneuver. Of course, a flanking tactic would be first in Hufflepuff's priorities as they defended their location. There is a chance that maneuver would work, but the Hufflepuffs would still be expecting it to some degree. Come on, class, what is  _unpredictable_ _?_ "

But there was nothing unpredictable Gryffindor could do except immediately charge towards the Hufflepuffs in a kamikaze attack. If they did that, though, they would easily get mowed down from Hufflepuff's defensive location. Since one couldn't Apparate within Hogwarts, there was no chance of flanking without being seen, either.

"Anyone?"

A few of the Ravenclaws opened their mouths, but they were apparently coming to the same conclusion that Harry had reached. There was nothing truly unpredictable the Gryffindors could do at that point that could win the match for them. It would just be a test of skills as they tried to either outmaneuver or out-duel the Hufflepuffs.

"A lesson to be learned for this class: Do not take anything at face value when facing your enemy. I said that Gryffindors were unpredictable and all of you took that notion and stuck with it during the analysis. Still, Gryffindors are not the  _only_  ones that can be unpredictable. You laughed in the beginning when you saw that the Gryffindors were defeated by the Hufflepuffs, but you have fallen into the same trap."

He flicked his wand at the projector, and the match continued. The Gryffindors on the left side of the marsh aggressively advanced to flank them the defending Hufflepuffs. As they moved, however, the Gryffindors on the right side of the marsh were suddenly stunned and disarmed as a secondary force of Hufflepuffs took them by surprise from behind. The Gryffindors were so busy rushing the Hufflepuff target that they didn't notice the misdirection.

Once the smaller contingent of Hufflepuffs had taken out half of the Gryffindors, the others holding down the fort easily matched the Gryffindor flanking maneuver,and, outnumbered, the Gryffindors easily lost.

"What is unpredictable is doing something that  _everyone_  doesn't expect. You all expected the Gryffindors to have the rash movement when it was the Hufflepuffs who actually devised this trap." Trow's geniality suddenly dropped. He was sterner, his gray eyes passing over the class. "Do not think that just because Hufflepuffs are known for being hardworking and steadfast, they also do not have an ounce of strategy in them. One roll of analysis of a Hufflepuff House Match of your choosing from all of you, due next week."

* * *

Potions was a simple redoing of a potion from the end of their last year. Harry did it in a breeze, ignoring the blubbering mass that was Slughorn. Harry didn't know why Snape kept Professor Horace Slughorn there, except for the purpose of the headmaster's own amusement. The Potions professor was terrified of Snape, and it showed in every moment of the class as he rushed around, trying to make sure everyone's potion was perfect.

Harry thought back to the House match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Something Trow had said caught his attention.  _Don't take anything at face value_. Ironically enough, they were in Potions with the Hufflepuffs. He looked around and tried imagine Ernie MacMillan or Justin Finch-Fletchly performing such a maneuver, but he just couldn't do it. How deep-seated were his perceived notions of the Hufflepuffs when he couldn't even imagine them carrying out such a tactic if he hadn't ever really known them?

But he couldn't very well ask them right there in Potions to gauge how they would approach such a situation. He knew their dueling capabilities well enough and he didn't doubt that he could beat either of them. Ernie had a bad habit of going on the defensive too much, allowing himself to be pushed into a corner. Justin simply didn't have good aim, going wildly off target if he was under any pressure. But together? He didn't know.

They finished Potions, and Harry lounged with Tracey and Blaise during their free period. Blaise was going on about buying things with all of his Galleons, and Tracey was admonishing him for being so reckless with his proposed spending. Still, Harry kept thinking about the match, replaying it in his head to see if he, too, would have fallen for the Hufflepuff trap. Scarily enough, Harry thought he would have.

"Harry, stop thinking about it," Tracey commanded. "All you're doing is constantly going over that match. Can you just stop for a moment to talk to us?"

"Sorry." Harry grinned sheepishly,knowing it would satisfy her for the time being. "But—think about it. Wouldn't we  _all_  have fallen for the trap?"

"Harry," Blaise complained, "you have to stop obsessing over duels and matches for just two seconds. You're killing me here. Come on, come up with ideas for spending all these Galleons with me."

"What do you want, Blaise? A Firebolt?"

"A Firebolt would be nice." Blaise stared off into the distance with dramatic wistfulness. "Too bad they don't let us play Quidditch anymore."

"Come on." Harry tried to bring them on topic once more. "Wouldn't we all have fallen for it?"

"This is why you're first in our year and tenth overall. You're demented!" Blaise exclaimed.

Harry ignored Blaise's protests. He knew that if his friend would just apply himself more, he would be much higher than nineteenth on the Years list and potentially even higher on the Master List, but all Blaise ever cared about was having fun and buying as many things as he could. He turned to Tracey, who he knew he could trust to at least have some semblance of competitive conversation.

"Trace? What do you think?"

She sighed, reluctant to be dragged into talking about the match. "I would have fallen for it, yes."

"Doesn't that mean we should reassess our perceived notions of Hufflepuffs? What if we face them in a House match and underestimate them in the same way?"

"Harry, be serious." Blaise decided to join in on that point. "These are Hufflepuffs.  _Hufflepuffs._ Can you imagine Ernie Macmillan, pimples and all, rushing into the marsh to set up early and then flanking us?"

Truth be told, Harry could not.  **"** I don't know. I think there's something to be said for at least thinking about it, though."

Draco approached, flanked by his two cronies. "What's wrong, Potter? Scared of a bunch of Hufflepuffs?"

"Malfoy, why are you here? It's a free period. There's a whole Common Room, and there's also this novel idea of the rest of the castle," Blaise said.

"While I would love to listen to more of Potter's paranoid ramblings about Hufflepuffs, that's not why I'm here." Draco smiled in that cold manner he'd probably perfected by the time he was five. "I was wondering if I could ask Tracey to help me with some Charms. I didn't quite finish my summer work." Draco gave her a big smile, making sure to puff out his chest as he did.

There were warning signs here; Harry could see them. Deciding to intervene on her behalf, Harry said, "You mean the charm to unlock doors? I know you had trouble with it, Draco, but it's called  _Alohomora._  Do you want it in syllables?  _A-lo-ho-mo-ra._ Kind of…kind of like it sounds!"

"Potter, leave the humor to Zabini. You're not as good at it as he is."

Blaise raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. "I do believe that's a compliment."

"Charms," Draco said firmly, the slightest bit of irritation finally showing. "Will you help me with it, Tracey?"

"I doubt you need my help, Draco." Tracey looked at him suspiciously. Harry hoped that she knew how slimy Draco really was.

"Well, it would only make sense to get Charms help from someone as charming as you." Draco smiled at her again.

_Oh. He's flirting with her._

"Draco, get out of here. I'd rather not spend the rest of my free period with you," Harry said in a tired voice.

Draco smirked at him, and for the second time in as many days, Harry was met with that I-know-something-you-don't-know face. Harry hoped that he would somehow draw Draco in Battle class today.

"Well, I still need some help, and Charms is on Wednesday. Hope to see you before then, Trace," Draco drawled as he left.

" _Trace_?!" Harry asked incredulouslyas soon as he was out of earshot. "Since when does he call you Trace?"

"I don't know." Tracey fidgeted as she watched Draco disappear through the Common Room door. "He's acting weird."

"Weird or in love?" Blaise teased.

Tracey blanched at the prospect, her blue eyes bulging. "No, thank you."

_Good_ _._

* * *

The rest of the free period was Malfoy-free, thankfully, and so the rest of the Third Year Slytherins came down from their dormitories as the two beeps signaling class was about to start rang through the halls. Battle class was always held in the unique Room of Requirement. The room would reshape to fit the user's needs, so Snape used it as an easy way to construct different scenarios. Students could use it after classes – for training purposes only, and it had to be monitored and approved by a teacher. There were rumors that Snape constantly kept a House-Elf inside to make sure no one used it for anything but practice and classes.

They entered the portrait, the excitement palpable in the air: their first Battle class of the year was about to begin. Inside the Room of Requirement, they were greeted with a large pit filled with jagged rocks. The size of the arena held no clues as to whether Snape wanted a House match or solo duels.

Snape's monotonous yet threatening voice ordered them to sit.

Chairs popped out of the air and the class hastened to seat, obeying the Headmaster's directions. He strode to the front of the group, his hands clasped behind his back and his robe billowing behind him. Snape looked down his hooked nose and surveyed them with a look of only slight disdain. It was better than the look of disappointment that he usually had.

"This year will be your toughest year by far. You will learn spells that are not so easy as a swish and a flick. I will challenge you with scenarios that extend beyond just one-on-ones and pitting Houses against each other. You will have to think, you will have to act with speed and confidence, and you will have to have no fear. Is that understood?"

A chorus of  **"** Yes, sir **"**  was the only answer they could give.

"Before we start formal lessons, I would like to take today to see if your skills have rusted over the summer. Names will be drawn randomly so that you have no preparation as to whom you will fight. Stand!"

The chairs disappeared, and the few students who didn't stand quickly enough toppled over.

"Longbottom, up. It requires your feet, in case you've forgotten," Snape drawled.

Several Slytherins snickered at this, and even Harry had to shake his head at the poor boy's failures. He was still having trouble standing up when Hermione Granger took him by his arm and heaved him to his feet, hissing something at him as she did so.

"So glad you could join us, Longbottom." Snape's icy tone showed his displeasure at being delayed.

"I'm sorry, sir," Longbottom muttered meekly.

Snape snapped his fingers and a piece of parchment appeared in his hand. "Name!"

With an air of inevitability, Snape called the first name.

"Potter."

Harry walked towards the front of the class, right on the edge of the ridge that led towards the pit. He turned around to face his classmates, feeling the rush of wind that the natural valley of the pit produced. Locking eyes with Ron Weasley, Harry smiled at him. Weasley, for his part, didn't look nearly as confident now that Harry's name had been drawn.

"Name!"

Another parchment appeared in Snape's hand, and from his seat behind the Headmaster, Harry could easily see the name.

"Granger."

A quiet hush fell over the Gryffindors and Slytherins. They had never actually faced each other out of pure luck during their first two years, even though they had finished as the top two students in both years. To her credit, Granger didn't look intimidated or afraid by any margin as she approached the ledge. There was a strange stillness to her, a confidence that Harry couldn't quite place.

"The rest of the class, against the wall. Potter, Granger, start on opposing ledges and begin on my mark."

Everyone else backed up towards a wall that had a stone barrier coming about chest high. They could all line up and watch the duel from their raised position,and had no fears about stray spells, as Snape's protection charms would block them from coming their way.

"I'll go to the other side," Harry offered.

Hermione shrugged. "If you want."

Harry had chosen the other side for more than chivalrous reasons. There was a larger rock that jutted out at a height taller than him; he could easily fall back to it if he had to. Given the natural cover, Harry was already devising a plan that he could use against Granger. From what he had seen before, she didn't subscribe to his mobile approach,so he could use the natural cover to block her spells and take potshots at her. Of course, there was more to it than that, but it seemed that the environment suited him more than it suited her.

Standing on the ledge, Harry looked up to see Hermione on the other side, about fifty meters away in total distance. To his right, up on the higher platform, the rest of his classmates looked on. Snape stood away from them, closer to Granger than he was to Harry.

"Let's go, Harry!" Tracey suddenly shouted, inviting others to proclaim their encouragement.

"Get him, Hermione! Show that Slytherin punk!"

"You got this, Potter!"

"I'm putting all five hundred Galleons on you, Harry!"

Blaise's statement brought a couple chuckles from the Slytherins and a grin to Harry's face. Hermione smiled, but it wasn't at Blaise's comment. It seemed directed towards Harry. He gave her a slight nod, an acknowledgement of their duel but she just kept on smiling.  _What does she know?_

Harry had once read a Muggle study about how, from an early age, girls were taught differently than boys. Teachers didn't even consciously do this, but they adjusted for each sex. With girls, they constantly drilled them about being proper and gave them encouragements and praise. In contrast, boys were told to behave and that if they weren't good at something, it was because they didn't try hard enough. People seemed to think that from an early age, girls were generally smarter than boys.

The study proposed that if a group of boys and girls were given a difficult problem, one higher than their grade level, girls would give up on it faster than the boys, even though they were smarter. Girls, believing their talent was innate, gave up when they realized they couldn't do it. Boys, taught that they could only improve by trying harder, kept working on the complex problem. Harry had already seen this sort of behavior in Hogwarts' students. Girls, when confronted with a spell they couldn't quite master, moved to another spell. Boys, on the other hand, kept smashing their head against a wall until they perfected a spell.

Harry didn't know why this thought was occurring in his head seconds before Snape would shoot the red sparks indicating they should begin, but he thought that his brain was subconsciously trying to tell him something. It was only later he would realize that it was trying to tell him that Hermione Granger learned differently from most girls.

"Begin," Snape ordered as he shot red sparks from his wand.

Harry jumped down from the ledge, his knees groaning as he landed on solid rock. Neither of them had fired a spell as they situated and Harry took to the opportunity to look around himself from the general safety of the jutting rock he had spotted earlier. All around him, the rocks were clumepd up so he couldn't move freely. Jumping and sprinting and leaping across small chasms would have to be involved, and again, Harry thought that would be to his advantage. He had no doubt that he was more athletic than Granger.

But the rocks still weren't high enough to completely conceal him. At least, not all of them were. This rock that jutted out could, but the others varied in shapes and sizes. Deciding it was time to confront Granger, Harry peeked out and spotted Granger kneeling and performing some sort of spell.

_"_ _Expelliarmus!"_

The shot flew over her head as she simply ducked to avoid it, almost ignoring the spell altogether. She kept on enchanting some sort of spell on the ground and for a moment, Harry wondered if she was making a weapon. Whatever the spell was, he couldn't allow her to continue. Leaping onto a rock to gain some leverage, Harry cast another Disarming Charm.

This time, she moved, pausing her spellwork to confront him.

_"_ _Immobulus!"_ _she_  cast, moving to her left and ducking behind another rock.

Harry jumped down, the blue spell whizzing over his head as he reset. Looking up, he saw that she was still crouched down, waving her wand over and over again. Annoyed, he shot another Disarming Charm at her, breaking her concentration and forcing her to produce a shield. They traded spellfire once more before Hermione ducked behind another rock.

_She's hiding. She doesn't want to confront me out in the open_ _,_ _so she's trying to bait me closer to her._

Harry knew he had the better aim and just needed good leverage to get a clean shot at her. Grabbing hold of a square stone, Harry heaved it towards her left, causing her to jump at the unexpected clash.

_"_ _Stupefy!"_ Harry used the Stunning spell for authority, and Hermione responded with another shield. Harry leapt diagonally, inching closer and closer to her.

_"_ _Expelliarmus_ _."_ His aim was off that time, and he knew she would strike back.

Instead of a Stunner or even an  _Expelliarmus_ , though, Hermione fired an odd spell: a Jelly-Legs Jinx that he couldn't quite block. Her use of a First-Year spell annoyed him as he wobbled off the rock and cast  _Finite_  on his legs to make it stop. Above him, he could hear some of the Gryffindors laughing.

Harry looked up again, but couldn't find Granger. Deciding that he needed to disrupt her fully to stop her from whatever spell she kept trying to cast, Harry aimed at the rock face.

_"_ _Bombarda!"_

The wall exploded, and he watched the rocks crumble downwards with grim satisfaction. She would have to come out of hiding. Indeed, she sprinted out into the open and shot an unknown red spell that he had to dodge. By the time he took another shot at her, she was already kneeling behind yet another rock formation.

_This is frustrating._

_Keep your patience, Potter._

He knew that she was just trying to goad him into coming closer. Harry could try drawing her out, but she seemed content to let him be the aggressor.

_"_ _Bombarda!"_

It caused Hermione to run again, but as before, she cast a spell at him as she broke cover, distracting him just enough so she could escape to yet another defilade. It was then that he realized she was using  _his_  strategy. He had hardly moved after the Jelly-Legs Jinx and instead it was she that was using cover to dodge while he wasted valuable magical energy casting powerful  _Bombarda_  hexes. Resolving to limit the number of spells he cast, Harry started approaching her at an angle, leaping from boulder to boulder.

Predictably, she didn't come out for a little while, but she eventually got curious and peeked her head out, firing a spell as he jumped from one rock to another. He dodged it easily and rolled so that he was lying on his stomach behind another boulder. They were only about ten meters from each other, and that was as close Harry was going to get. The duel had to be decided there.

_"_ _Expelliarmus!_ _"_

_"_ _Protego!"_

She blocked the Disarming Charm easily and sprinted towards another granite block, but Harry could see that she had made her grave mistake. The way they were positioned allowed Harry a clear shot if she tried to sprint to her left or right towards another form of cover. The granite block she was hiding behind was isolated on both sides.

_"_ _Expelliarmus! Bombarda!"_

He shot the two spells in swift succession, knowing he had her pinned. A crash of rocks fell from the rock face and he heard a high-pitched yelp. Harry came out from behind his cover, his wand up, approaching her slowly. She would have to come out, and he already had the bead on her.

_If she casts a spell, produce a shield and hex her on the rebound. If she tries to run, take one good shot. If she tries to come out into the open and duel, overwhelm her_.

Harry broke down the several scenarios as he took one step after another, slowly closing in on the isolated boulder. Hermione could go nowhere this time and her only choice would be to face him head on and Harry was confident he had the advantage at that point. But then, she did something… _unexpected_.

She jumped out, her arms exposed, and didn't fire a spell. Granger simply revealed herself and then ducked behind the rock again. Harry shot a Disarming spell, missing as she retreated behind the rock again and then he sprinted towards her in a wide semicircle, firing spell after spell as he closed on her quickly.

_"_ _Stupefy! Stupefy! EXPELLIARMUS!"_

The last spell finally struck her. He saw it hit her cleanly and knock her further back behind the boulder and out of his sight. Still, he approached the boulder slowly, his wand extended in front of him. Harry came around the boulder to find…

...nothing.

"Hello, Harry," a feminine voice whispered in his ear. He felt the point of her wand against his back.

_"_ _STUPEFY!_ _"_


	3. Forging Steel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry searches for answers

"To be fair, it was very clever." Tracey sympathized.

That didn't stop Draco Malfoy from repeating the story endlessly to everyone he could talk to, even Hufflepuffs that didn't particularly want to listen to him laughed at it. Hermione Granger had not only succeeded in besting Harry in the duel, but she had also embarrassed him with the ease in which she stunned him.

Harry would fume and grumble if he wasn't so impressed by the intricate spell she had chosen to cause a reflection of herself. Tracey told him that when he thought she sprinted behind the boulder, that was actually the mirror image of her that she was creating the whole time. All she had to do was wait until he exposed himself fully and she just walked up behind him to stun him.

"We saw it coming and we wanted to yell out a warning at you, but by that time, Snape had cast a sound barrier that didn't let us say anything," Tracey explained. "That was so…so…"

"…cunning of her," Harry finished as they paced around the lake. Blaise was nearby, trying to harass people to take on another bet after he had lost fifty Galleons to Ron Weasley of all people when he had bet on Harry against Granger.

"I bet you've never held fifty Galleons in your life before, Weasley. Don't bust out of your pants when you touch it," Blaise had sharply commented as he threw him the pouch with the fifty Galleons after Battle class was over and everyone had dueled once.

Tracey had won against Dean Thomas, while Blaise had predictably lost against Draco. Still, the talk of the class was how Hermione Granger, the Gryffindor Muggleborn, bested Harry Potter, now currently twentieth on the Master List. While he did have to deal with some of the snide comments on being beaten by Granger, not as many people were mad at him over this initial pre-year ranking of tenth. They all seemed to conclude that it was just an aberration by the staff and he would be out of the top fifty in no time.

"No one will take bets on you in a re-match," Blaise grumbled. "You were my winning horse and now you've gone and lost all of my action."

"What's horses got to do with it?" Harry asked.

"Racing horses? My Mum married a gambling Muggle once but then he died of some heart illness. I think that's is where I got this from. Anyways, you have to challenge her again."

"To what? A practice duel? What would that prove?"

"That you're  _better_? Harry, we can't have you losing to Granger of all people. She's first now on the Years List!"

"Blaise, why don't you concentrate on your own ranking and less on mines? At this rate, you're going to be down near Longbottom."

Blaise wrinkled his nose in disgust, his dark complexion twisting in horror. "I would never let myself stoop so low."

"Keep on slacking and you will." Harry pointed out.

"I'm slacking?! You lost, Harry!"

"You lost too!"

"Boys," Tracey said tiredly. "Can we just agree that I'm better than both of you?"

Harry and Blaise stopped in mid-step, staring at her with wide eyes. She smiled at them innocently, batting her dark eyelashes, and said, "What?"

They leapt at her, tackling her to the ground, shrieking while they tickled her sides.

"Stop it! Stop it!" she yelled between giggles, "I give!"

Out of breath, Harry leant a hand to help her up. "Watch yourself, Davis. Next thing you know, your head will be the size of Malfoy's."

"Speaking of which," she frowned, "He asked me again to help him with his Charms homework. What part of no does that boy not understand?"

"If his parents are anything like mines, they never said no," Blaise said."

Tracey nodded thoughtfully. "This is true. Same of mines."

Harry stayed quiet, continuing the walk around the lake during their free period. Of course, he had no input on what his parents would have said. Would they have told him no? He imagined they would, but then again, Uncle Dursley always said no. It was when Harry said no that he would start facing the consequences of the cupboard under the stair and the belt.

"Harry, are you even listening?" Blaise whined on.

"What is it this time?"

"I asked you what you thought about Daphne Greengrass. Trace doesn't like her that much but I reckon its because she's got a bigger set of knockers than her."

"Oh yes, that's the only reason why." Tracey rolled her eyes as she punched Blaise in the shoulder.

"Those things need to have their own pair of Omnioculars on them."

"Blaise, you fucking twat, stop that!" Tracey punched him again.

"Stationary ones too," Harry quipped.

"Harry!"

"Sorry, Trace," Harry said with an impish grin as they finished their lap around the lake.

"Perverts, the lot of you. Why is that I don't hang around Daphne and Millicent more?"

"Because Millicent probably wants a piece of your pie and you're jealous of Daphne's impressive set of…"

"Blaise. One more word. Please. Just say one more word," Tracey warned.

"One more word of what?" asked another girl as she fell in step with them.

Pansy Parkinson was a strange character, snobbish most of the times but capable of being friendly when put to the task. Though Harry often saw her hanging around, or more likely, hanging on Draco, she was Tracey's closest friend out of her dormitory.

"Blaise keeps going on about Daphne."

"Oh? That whore? Blaise, you could do better than that." Pansy snorted at Daphne's name.

"Is that an offer?" Blaise grinned.

"Option's always on the table."

"Pansy, if you wanted to do it on the table, you just have to ask."

"I would appreciate it if you two would just stop. There is too much innuendo flying around here and I'm a little tired of imagining Blaise in various states of undress." Tracey made a gagging motion.

"Does your imagination fulfill your desires? You know what they say, once you go black, you never… _OH NOOO…"_

Blaise keeled over, holding his groin as Tracey stepped back with a satisfied look on her face. Harry and Pansy shook their heads as they stopped in the middle of the Hogwarts grounds to watch Blaise writhe on the ground.

"Priceless…family…antiques…" Blaise managed to wheezed as he hunched over.

* * *

After an uneventful Charms class where they just did a quick overview of last year's spells, Harry departed for Trow's classroom so he could finally review the duel on the Stationary Omnioculars. Classes were already over and there were a few other kids in the room, most of them Fifth Years and above. A couple Gryffindors, one being the dreadlocked Lee Jordan, snickered as he walked by but he ignored it.

Taking a seat and pulling out a parchment and a quill, Harry pressed his face against the two eye sockets and watched from the very beginning. The advantage of Stationary Omnioculars wasn't only that he could replay the entire duel. The Stationary Omnioculars also had multiple vantage points so he could observe the duel from a variety of positions.

First, he focused on his side of the duel. He watched himself jump down from the ledge, maneuvering his way around the rocks as he traded a few early spells with Granger. He reached the point where Granger oddly fired the Jelly-Legs Jinx at him.

"Why would she do that?" Harry mumbled to himself as he wrote down,  _Jelly-Legs?_

It was an obvious opportunity to hit him with a stronger spell since he was exposed on top of the rock, but she had passed it up to hit him with a First-Year spell. While he could have easily blocked a Stunner or an  _Expelliarmus_ , he didn't expect that. Perhaps that's why she chose that particular spell, but how could she have known that he wouldn't be able to block it?

 _Telegraph spell?_  He jotted down next, trying to see if there was any way he tipped off his  _Protego_. Yet, there was none that he could find. His arm was still down and he could just have easily jumped out of the way instead of raising a shield, so how did she know he wouldn't be able to block a Jelly-Legs?

Continuing, Harry scowled as he watched himself try to use  _Bombarda_  to bring her out of hiding. In retrospect, it was a poor decision as it played right into her hands of dodging from cover to cover while he used valuable magical resources in simply trying to flush her out of hiding. At least he recognized it at the time, something he thought gave him a slight advantage over everyone except for Granger apparently.

 _Don't over extend yourself_ , he wrote.

It was a mistake driven by pride and ego as he wanted Granger to come out for an open duel instead of hiding and creeping along the rocks. Then again, Snape didn't care about the fairness in which someone duel.

 _Win at all costs_ , Harry scribbled.

But then he watched the last stanza of the duel as he crept around the boulder slowly. Zooming in and watching it in slow motion, he confirmed that he did indeed hit the mirror image of Granger. It was the illusion that she had fallen out of sight that did him in, though one could argue that he was doomed as he soon as he thought that it was actually Granger behind that boulder and not just an apparition of her.

He knew that his problem was being too aggressive, but he believed that being aggressive gave him a slight edge when it came to duels. Aggression would let you control the tempo and pace of the duel, but Granger must have expected it and lured him into a trap even after he had taken multiple precautions.

Sighing, he changed the camera view so that he could watch it from Granger's viewpoint this time.

She jumped down and immediately placed her back against the wall and started chanting under her breath and waving her wand at the ground. Granger did it continuously, ignoring Harry for all purposes and focusing on her spell. Harry reasoned that this must be the spell she used to create her doppelganger, but he couldn't make out the incantation.  _Could I ask her?_   _Would she even tell me?_

He hit forward and noticed that she didn't seem to care what spell he cast. Every time he would try and hit her with a spell, she automatically knew whether to duck or whether to bring up a shield. And then, in that curious moment where she cast the Jelly-Legs Jinx, he could see that she was specifically aiming for his legs, not even thinking of casting a Stunner.

_Advanced knowledge of my spells?_

It was practically impossible to predict a spell ahead of time unless she was incredibly gifted in reading postures, but it was too hectic and Harry judged that he was moving too much for her to be able to do such a thing. He had heard of Aurors and Hit Wizards that knew the spell as soon as a wizard shifted his foot, but Hermione couldn't be that good already. She was just a Third Year.

 _And you were just a Third Year and made top ten on the Master List_ , the voice in his head countered. Still, the differences were incomparable.

Pressing forward, Harry watched as Granger finally completed a spell during the time frame where he was trying to get closer to her without casting any spells. What he thought was just a chance look was actually a predetermined shot as she raised her head and found him. Harry realized it was a distraction, a way to force him out of sight so she could send her doppelganger running behind the isolated boulder.

Harry chided himself for being so stupid for thinking that Granger would trap herself like that. There was nothing to really force her into that direction and he had fallen for such an easy ploy. True, it might have taken him a little while to figure out that there was a doppelganger, but foolishly rushing forward was a reckless thing to do…a Gryffindor thing to do.

 _You can be both_. It was a different voice in his head, one that belonged to the Sorting Hat, but he forced it out, reminding himself that he was a Slytherin: cunning, ambitious, and clever. He would beat Granger the second time around. He kept watching until the end, unwittingly admiring not only her technique and approach but the way her bangs fell across her forehead as she rushed forward when she approached him with her wand and stunned him at point blank range.

He leaned back, rubbing his eyes tiredly as watching replays through the Stationary Omnioculars tended to wear on his eyes. There was a smidgen of dirt on his glasses so he rubbed it with his shirt. As he placed the glasses back on the bridge of his nose, he noticed he was the only left in Trow's classroom.

"How long was I here?" Harry asked himself.

"It's nearly supper time," Trow answered from behind Harry.

Twisting in his seat, Harry turned around to see the pale professor collecting various bits of parchment that were lying around the classroom.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Harry apologized, "I'll be out of your way soon."

"Oh don't mind me, Harry. Feel free to continue studying. These days, I'm used to your presence here. You're one of the most studious students I have. Not  _the_  most studious, but you're up there."

"And who's here more than I am?"

Professor Trow smiled, a faint red splotch on his pale cheeks, "Why its the person you're watching of course."

"I don't see her here right now."

"She probably doesn't have to watch a replay to know how she beat you." Trow smiled knowingly again.

Harry flushed on the inside, knowing that word must have gotten around the castle quickly if Trow already knew about his defeat. "Excuse me, Professor, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course you can, Harry."

"Is there any way for someone to know what you're going to cast in advance? I mean, am I tipping off my spells or anything?"

Trow squinted his eyes, drawing his white eyebrows together in a way that made them disappear on his forehead. "Some Aurors and Hit Wizards have an innate talent for reading their opponents, but if you're asking if you have some sort of tell that gives away what spell you're going to use, a majority of people don't. That's just an exaggeration that Aurors use to inflate their own prowess."

"So there's no way?"

"There is not a concrete way. Are you wondering how Ms. Granger knew what you were going to cast?"

"I…how did you know that?" Harry frowned in confusion. Did Trow have a way of knowing what they were watching?

"Word travels fast around the castle, Harry." Trow winked at him. "But if you're so curious as to how she did it, why don't you just ask the young woman herself?"

"I don't think I can do that."

"Come now, Harry. You must be brave enough to talk to a girl even if she bested you."

"It's not that," Harry replied quickly, "It's just that…"

"…the Houses," Trow sighed. "A great and terrible invention at the same time. I can not specifically tell you how she knew Harry, but my only advice would be to ask her. The worst she can say is no."

_The worst she could say is that I just wasn't good enough._

"Thank you, sir."

* * *

Harry had a fitful sleep, filled with dreams of multiple Hermione Grangers dancing around him in that same pit of jagged rocks. She kept chanting something that he couldn't quite decipher and every time he would try and curse her, another version of her just popped out of nowhere.

Food always replenished his rather low sugar levels in the morning and he hoped it would break him out of his bad mood. As he approached the Slytherin table, he spotted Snape conversing quietly with Mad-Eye Moody, leaning in and discussing something in private. He quickly averted his eyes, however, knowing that it was just as likely that Moody's magical eye was watching him.

Harry sat down across from Blaise and Tracey in his usual spot. Looking up, he found that Tracey's hair was in little ringlets that framed her heart-shaped face.

"Nice hair, Trace," Harry complimented.

"Thanks." She beamed at him.

"And the make-up too? Who are you trying to impress?" Harry asked as he stuffed a waffle in his mouth.

"Draco, of course."

Harry choked on the waffles slightly, forcing down a gulp of orange juice to wash it out. Tracey was smiling deviously at him while Blaise gave a soft clap with his hands.

"Well played. I'm impressed," Blaise nodded at her.

Tracey shrugged. "I have my moments."

"Seriously though." Harry wiped the residue waffle from his mouth with a napkin. "Why the get up?"

Again, Tracey shrugged nonchalantly. "No reason." With that, Harry dismissed it as another girly frivolity.

"What's on the schedule for today?" Harry asked.

"Creatures with the new professor with the Puffs. Transfiguration with the Griffs. Then Dueling with the Claws. After that, free period," Blaise answered.

"I don't see why we have to bother with Creatures. Unless you're going into that field, what's the point? Snape's never thrown us anything like that at us so far," Tracey said.

"So far being the key word. You have to be prepared, Tracey. We're just Third Years. Who knows what Snape's going to put in the Room of Requirement as we go on," Harry reminded her.

Curling an already curled strand of hair around her finger, Tracey sighed as she acknowledged Harry's point. Harry was about to speak again when a loud guffaw shattered his thoughts. Draco was heaving a fit with some of the older Slytherins and Harry could hear a snippet of his conversation.

"…and then the Mudblood just walks up behind him and stuns him in the back! You should have seen the look on Potter's face!"

As if by chance, though Harry knew it wasn't by chance as Draco had purposely raised his voice so he could hear, the blond boy turned towards Harry with a practiced smile on his ever pristine face.

"Slipping down the list, Potter!" Draco pointed at the black banner with gold writing.

Indeed, the magically changing list had already dropped Harry another three spots to twenty-third. Scanning down, Harry spotted Hermione Granger at seventy-seventh. No one quite knew how the teachers calculated the rankings, but it had to be on some sort of numeric grading system that rewarded points based on very different measures including the difficulty of your opponent. Otherwise, everyone in his year would just pick on poor Neville Longbottom.

"Hey, Draco. Where are you on the list?" Blaise innocently asked.

That dropped the smile off Draco's face.

"Just got to knock him down a peg, Harry. There's nothing a Malfoy hates more than being shown that he's less than what he thinks he is. That and having more money than them," Blaise added as an afterthought.

Another round of raucous laughter diverted Harry's attention towards the Gryffindor table as Weasley and Seamus Finnegan reenacted Harry's defeat. He spotted Granger shaking her head at the affair, but the small smile that crept on her face betrayed her faux disapproval at the dramatic show.

"Ignore them, Harry," Tracey said firmly.

"I'm ignoring them."  _Just like I'll remember each and every one of them_.

The migration out of breakfast this time was uneventful as the Gryffindors were headed in an opposite direction. Predictably, the Hufflepuffs let the Slytherin group past first into the Creatures classroom and Harry suppressed an eye roll at their politeness. Despite that, he reminded himself of Trow's lesson and his own subsequent defeat at the hands of Granger. It wasn't good to underestimate an opponent, no matter how easy the task may look.  _Don't take anything at face value_ , Trow's words ringed in Harry's ears.

"Take a seat, take a seat!" The drab professor waved them all in as they filed into two distinct groups, the Hufflepuffs on the right side of the classroom and the Slytherins on the left.

"Ouch, watch it, Trace!" Blaise complained as Tracey flopped into the seat next to Harry.

"I want the front seat," Tracey explained. "You're not going to be listening anyways."

"Didn't have to bowl me over for it," Blaise muttered as he sat behind them with Pansy.

Harry leaned over and whispered, "He really isn't anyways."

"He never does." Tracey rolled her eyes and Harry appreciated how starkly blue they were.

"Welcome everyone to Creatures. I'm Professor Lupin and hopefully I'll be here longer than your previous teacher." The Hufflepuffs chuckled at this while the Slytherins simply continued to listen.

"Well." Lupin coughed to clear his throat. "Let's not delay this with a review of last year. I'm sure you're all eager to move on. Can anyone tell me the characteristics of a werewolf?"

"They turn into werewolves under a full moon," Ernie MacMillan answered.

"Ingenious, MacMillan," Draco drawled from the back of the classroom, drawing a couple chuckles at the expense of the pimpled Hufflepuff.

"Ingenious and correct it is." Lupin smiled without skipping a beat. "Anything else?"

"They tend to favor raw meat. In general, they're loners because they don't want to be discovered by other people or else they live in a pack with other werewolves. They are also often ill around the time of the full moon. The only known potion to prevent them from losing all control is the Wolfsbane potion," Blaise listed off several facts, counting them with his fingers. Not well known for participating in class, Blaise shrugged as he spotted the curious glances his way.

"What? I thought my Mum's third husband was a werewolf. I figured I'd know the facts. As it turns out, he wasn't. Silver didn't kill him but some sort of lung failure did."

Professor Lupin chuckled, his worn clothes shifting around his body as he did. "But Mr. Zabini is indeed correct on all counts. Werewolves differ from regular wolves, of course, but it would be easy to tell the difference if you ever see one up close. I don't think you'll need a textbook for that. But is there anything else?"

"Well, werewolves are different from Animagus in that they can't help and transform, but the curse doesn't generally pass along with children. Not that I know a lot of werewolves that have children, mind you," Blaise continued to add.

"Anyone  _besides_  Mr. Zabini?"

But no one had anything else to add as Lupin paced around the classroom with his hands behind his back. Harry idly wondered if all teachers practiced that particular walking style, covering the ground with long strides with their hands behind their backs. Creatures was already boring him, even if it was a slightly more intriguing topic like werewolves.  _Wait until we get back to the worms_.

"No one? What if I told you there was a werewolf in this room?"

Harry's head immediately snapped up.  _Now this is interesting_. He shifted his eyes around the classroom, briefly meeting Tracey, who could only give him an amused look.

"Not me, Trace." Harry grinned at her.

"I know that, you idiot." Still, Tracey nervously looked around the classroom, twirling her hair like she did whenever she was on edge.

But Harry already knew that it wasn't likely someone in the classroom. After three years, he would have figured to find any distinguishable werewolf patterns even if he didn't speak to Hufflepuffs on a regular basis. It certainly wasn't any of the Slytherins as they would be immediately figured out based on illness around the full moon. And none of the Hufflepuffs really fit the bill either.

 _Don't take anything at face value_.

And then Harry grinned as he figured it out.

"Any guesses as to who it may be?" Lupin continued to innocently posture.

The rest of the students were also shifting uncomfortably in their seats as they tried not to accusingly look at each other. Everyone except for Draco, who had pushed his chair so far back to survey everyone that he couldn't even reach his desk with his arms outstretched.

"Mr. Potter? It seems you've figured it out." Lupin approached him.

"Well. I think it's you, sir," Harry replied.

Tracey gasped next to him and he felt a fit of annoyance at her. He didn't often get annoyed by her, but why should she have that sort of reaction? He was just a werewolf and obviously wasn't salivating at the mouth or attacking anyone in the moment. Still, she pressed herself away from Lupin and closer to Harry until he could smell the potions in her hair.

"No need to be alarmed, Ms. Davis. Obviously, there's no fur on my body right now." Professor Lupin smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I'm leaving," Draco stood up, hastily gathering his things.

"No you are not, Mr. Malfoy," Lupin dropped the smile and his tone turned cold and Harry swore he could detect the smallest growl in the back of his throat.

Draco paled at the command, his hands stopping in mid-air as he fought the urge to run. In part, Harry was amused by Draco's reaction. There was always a lot of talk with him, and that was what Draco was skilled at. In the face of a werewolf though, Draco seemed to shrink like so many of his classmates. He sat back down hesitantly, keeping both eyes plastered on the graying head of Professor Lupin.

"I've been told that many of you think this class is a joke, but I assure you that Headmaster Snape wouldn't include it if it wasn't. Now you know that your teacher is a werewolf. Creatures can be dangerous, but they can also be benign. It's in how you perceive them and react to them. Much like you have to judge your opponents, you also have to judge the level of danger from a creature. Do I look dangerous to you?" Lupin rhetorically asked, his voice louder and filled with a stronger tenor.

The class was silent except for the anxiety-ridden movements. Susan Bones' leg was bouncing up and down faster than a metronome while Theodore Nott kept cracking his knuckles over and over again. Tracey's hair was starting to lose its ringlets shape as she kept twisting it around her finger. Harry gently touched her elbow and she jumped.

"It's okay. He's not a werewolf right now."

Tracey nervously tittered. "Tell me that in a couple of weeks."

"Judging from your looks when I entered, none of you really thought much of me and my rather shabby clothes. I assure you that I'm perfectly nice and that I  _don't_  bite most of the time. But this is a wake up call for all of you that thought you weren't going to take this class as seriously as the rest of your studies. Creatures are dangerous and you need to understand them."

Lupin walked to the front of the classroom and pointed his wand so that the white screen fell down and a projector magically whizzed its gears and displayed an image of a werewolf crouched over a bloody body.

"Welcome to Creatures."

* * *

Word had reached to the rest of the school that Professor Lupin was a werewolf and Harry was disgruntled at the mostly negative reactions they had. Professor Flitwick was half-goblin, but no one was ever afraid of him or thought he was going to steal their Galleons in the middle of the night. But he kept it to himself, knowing that it would be a long crusade and lots of head-bash-wall to explain to people why Lupin wasn't dangerous when he wasn't a werewolf. Besides, Headmaster Snape already knew and Snape was coldly calculating. He was letting Lupin teach Creatures for a reason.

Blaise, interestingly enough, was fascinated by Lupin's lycanthropy. "Do you think he eats all of his meat raw? Or does he like it cooked when he's a human? What about his clothes? Do you think that's why he has a bunch of shabby clothes? In case he turns to a wolf and he doesn't have his 'wolf clothes' on."

"I'm sure Lupin doesn't carry around  _wolf clothes_ ," Harry answered.

"Harry," Blaise said in a skeptical tone, "Think if you were a wolf. Say you were turning into a wolf that night. Would you really want your best pair of trousers on? And you, Tracey. Would you really want your fanciest knickers on?"

"My knickers are none of your concern, Blaise."

"Point still stands." Blaise gestured as they turned the corner to reach the Dueling classroom.

Transfiguration was a boring affair as Professor McGonagall went out of her way to sap any horsing around. She was particularly mean to the Slytherins, except interestingly enough, to Harry. While she still wasn't nice to him by any stretch, her face softened and her verbal blows didn't land nearly as hard when she scolded him for a mistaken Transfiguration.

Harry had done his best to sit as far away from Granger as possible in that class and Tracey, thankfully, offered to be a buffer. Draco, apparently recovered from his run-in with Lupin, took the time for some choice comments, but for once, McGonagall's strictness was to Harry's benefit. Even Malfoy kept the snide to a minimum around her. Harry thought McGonagall was almost unhappy to be teaching at Hogwarts by the way she acted.

Mad-Eye Moody, as they called him from his rebellious Auror days, was sitting down with his staff perched on his side. He was looking at each student as they entered but his magical eye was skimming over a paper on his desk. Harry took a seat near the front, per usual, and this time, Blaise beat Tracey to the punch to sit beside him.

Harry didn't really mind who sat next to him, but for some reason, Tracey gave a disappointed glare at Blaise as she passed by.

"What?" Blaise scoffed. "I'm tired of sitting next to Pansy."

Instead, Tracey sat with Nott this period.

While Dueling wasn't as active as Battle class, Moody still had a more hands-on approach when it came to things. In this class, Harry usually learned spells instead of actually enacting them. Moody would usually have the perform spells on each other to see their effects and ensure that they could cast it. Sometimes, they would duel to show examples of how they could be used within a match.

"Alright, you ingrates. Let's start." Moody grumbled as he hoisted himself up with the magical staff that doubled as his wand.

"Snape wants me to teach you some more spells, but let's do something else today. I know you got your silly spells and incantations, but most wizards and witches don't even say nothing when they cast a spell. I'm sure most of you with wizard parents know that they don't run around saying  _Expelliarmus_ or  _Evanesco_. In time, it will come natural to you, but I figured you better learn it now."

"Let's start with something simple." Moody pointed his wand at Harry and a sharp sting on his hand immediately followed.

"A Stinging Hex. Don't hurt that much, just feels like a bite. Now, DON'T say the hex out loud. Don't even think about it. Don't think about the word at all. Just concentrate on what it does and giving your friend a sharp poke. Everyone pair up!" Moody barked, stomping his staff on the ground.

Harry naturally paired with Blaise and they stood facing each other. Blaise grinned and said, "I'll go first."

Furrowing his dark eyebrows, Blaise scrunched his face and pointed his wand at Harry's hand, but unlike with Moody, he felt nothing.

"You look constipated."

"Shut up, let me try again." Blaise wiped his hands down on his robes like it would do anything. Sometimes, Harry marveled at how basic his friend was.

Nothing.

"Let me?" Harry raised his wand in a question.

"Go ahead," Blaise sighed in resignation.

Harry pointed his wand and concentrated on the feeling of the Stinging Hex against his skin. He knew it worked when Blaise suddenly jumped, dropping his wand and clutching his hand to his chest.

"Oh you…you…son of a…ow…"

"Good, Potter!" Moody barked as he limped around the classroom on his wooden leg. "Come on, Zabini. Let's see it."

Blaise huffed and picked up his wand off the ground to try again. Pointing his wand adopting a wider stance, Blaise even gave the wand a flick but again nothing happened. Yelping, Blaise dropped his wand again as Moody hit him with a wordless Stinging Hex this time.

"Let that be incentive to get it right," Moody growled. "Again!"

"Alright!" Blaise yelled back, knowing he could do that only with Moody. The grizzled ex-Auror wasn't one for standard convention when it came to being a professor.

Blaise didn't hesitate this time, slashing down with his wand and this time, Harry felt the sting of the hex even though it wasn't strong enough to force him to drop his wand like he did to Blaise.

"Better." Moody said in a one word congratulations. He limped around then and moved on to yell at some Ravenclaws that just couldn't get it right.

"Merlin, I hate him," Blaise grumbled as Moody faded away.

"I HEARD THAT, ZABINI."

* * *

Harry used the free period to once again head to Trow's classroom, weakly fending off Tracey's protestations that he should relax. He wouldn't relax until he found out how Granger knew what spells he was going to cast. If he had to review matches from his Second Year. He would do it. Granger must have found something that tipped her off.

Trow wasn't surprise when he entered the classroom and he gave the pale professor a slight nod before sitting down in front of the Stationary Omnioculars and flipping out the same parchment with hasty notes again. He watched three matches of his own but found nothing that could have informed Granger of what spell he was about to cast.

After a couple hours of frustration, Harry pulled back from the Stationary Omnioculars to find that the classroom was empty save for Professor Trow again. Trow was busy at his desk, presumably grading papers and such. Harry had half a mind to ask the professor again if there were any possible indicators, but the white-haired man had been adamant about the exaggeration of tells.

The door opened and inside stepped the girl in question, her backpack slung around her shoulder. She greeted Professor Trow and walked towards the rows of Stationary Omnioculars and spotted Harry sitting down at one. There was a falter in her walk as she apparently decided to use a different Omniocular. The only form of acknowledgement from her was another small nod of the head.

_I have to ask her. I have to know._

"Granger," Harry called out. "Can I ask you something?"

She dropped her bag in front of a station and looked at him expectantly.  _Not the most courteous, this one._

"How'd you know?"

"That I was going to beat you?"

Her cockiness threw him off balance. "No," Harry drew out the word, "How'd you know what spells I was going to cast."

She shrugged, sitting down so he could only see the top of her head. "It's rather obvious, Potter."

"Obvious. How?" Once again, he was struck by how Ravenclaw she was. Did the House offer her two choices like it did to him?

"Just keep looking. It's right in front of your face," she answered, already burying her face into the eye sockets of the Omnioculars so all he could see was the bushy mass of hair surrounding it.

Two hours and a missed dinner later, Harry still did not see it.

* * *

"How is he progressing?"

"Reacted well to the placement on the Master List and his peers reacted accordingly."

"I noticed that he did not confront you about the placement. Does he just not want to know or does he believe he really is tenth?"

"It wouldn't surprise me either way. There is a bit of arrogance about it, but he's aware of it. The drawings for his first Battle class weren't random as I wanted to test him against a subject he hadn't dueled against."

"And he lost."

"An aberration. The Muggle-born used an advanced spell that's above their learning grade."

"Are you saying that he can't make adjustments to unknown spells? Perhaps we should scale back the level of difficulty for this."

"No. I'm saying that faced with the same duel again, he would win. He is already obsessing over how to beat the Muggle-born during their next duel."

"And do you intend to pit them against each other soon?"

"No. It's best to keep a confusing array at him so he learns to adjust on the fly. If we align him with expectations, the adjustments will be too easy."

"So what next?"

"Group movements and his ability to lead. I believe he has made great progress since the First Year."

"His First Year was a disaster."

"It wasn't a disaster. While there was some naiveté, he showed a lack of fear that was promising."

"I still think that you are pushing too much on him. What if he isn't ready?"

"These are my decisions to make. The progress must be accelerated."

"He shows great promise, but he is still raw. Still learning. You ask too much of him from the beginning by placing him so high on the Master List. Let him learn."

"He will learn faster this way. He will learn while fending off others. It is better this way than to walk him slowly. He is already fearless but it is unchecked, unbalanced. He needs to start thinking diagonally instead of laterally. If he is presented with tasks that seem impossible, he will rise faster than if he simply achieved medium-level goals."

"I hope you're right in that."

"I am right. You forge solid steel by dipping it into the fire, not by slowly bending it until its straight."

"And if the fire burns him?"

"Then we will just try again."


	4. The Fog of War

Two weeks passed without any significant events. Harry remained static on the Master List, an embarrassingly easy victory over Neville Longbottom not really having any impact on upward migration. From time to time, he would catch Hermione Granger looking over at him but he steadfastly avoided her gaze. Ever since her subtle hint of her ability to accurately predict his spells, he had avoided all eye contact with her.

The first thought that came into his mind was Legilimency.

It was almost preposterous to think that a simple Third Year would be capable of having such advanced skill at the rare art. Raging hormones not withstanding, it was difficult for adult wizards to master the art of Legilimency and subsequently Occlumency. To suppose that Hermione Granger could do it was near ridiculous, but Harry couldn't afford to ignore the impossible. After researching the spell in what he assumed was the secrecy of the library, he had avoided eye contact with her with devout stubbornness.

After a while, and extensive research, he concluded that there was about as much chance of Hermione Granger knowing Legilimency as there was his parents miraculously being alive after being killed by Lord Voldemort. While he didn't actively avoid her gaze anymore, he still made an attempt to avoid long eye contact with her. There was a small voice in his head that told him he was avoiding eye contact with her for other reasons, but that voice was usually driven by tumultuous hormones. He mistrusted it greatly.

While there was no evidence to suspect foul play, Harry was sure that Hermione had gained some sort of advantage prior to their battle. After reviewing several of her previous dueling sessions, he found her technique lacking and most importantly, recognized an inability to think on her feet. It was somewhere in Second Year when she started dominating the competition, moving with an assuredness that impressed him. Even more damning was the fact that she had that same recognition of spells some time during that Second Year run.

As he watched Hermione dispatch Ernie MacMillan with relative ease during a replay of her torrid streak during Second Year, he realized that she could accurately predict his spells too. MacMillan had a tendency to shoot high, which Harry contributed to jumpy nerves, and Hermione must have realized the same thing because she would just duck to avoid his spells instead of bringing up a Protego. Yet, when his aim was true, she always produced the right combination of either dodging or procuring a shield to minimize her magical energy sap.

In short, she was ruthlessly efficient.

But how did she do it? That was the five hundred Galleon question and Harry suspected that not even Blaise could answer it.

"Why am I so pale?" Blaise asked as he flopped down on the green couch that Harry was also sitting in.

"Blaise, honestly? All the girls are jealous over your skin. The rest of us look so blotchy and sickly. People are going to start thinking we're Hufflepuffs." Tracey complained, examining her own rather pale arms.

"You're too pretty to be a Hufflepuff," Harry commented off-handedly, scribbling down his notes of a Hufflepuff match from 1984 for Trow's class.

A flush crept over Tracey's porcelain neck, but Harry missed it, too focused on Trow's assignment to notice. Tomorrow would mark the first day that they would rotate to classes with another House and seeing as how it was Ravenclaws, it would make Battle class a little different.

Gryffindors had a tendency to find ways to win but that was through sheer persistence more than anything else. Stubborn to a fault, they tended to try and bash their opponents over the head with one spell over and over. While Harry perceived the tactic as hopelessly naïve, it did have the added side-effect of perfecting a particular spell. Since most of the Gryffindors stuck to the tried high and true calling of heedlessly rushing into battle, all that was usually required was a bite of guile and remaining calm during their sound of fury.

Unless it was Hermione Granger of course.

Again, Harry marveled at how Ravenclaw she was because that's how Ravenclaws fought. While Gryffindors patented the art of reckless abandonment, Ravenclaws were patient and thorough, preferring to whittle their opponents down with an array of spells they had probably meticulously researched. To counter-act that, Harry had to aggressively attack them and prevent them from creating too much momentum. He used their greatest strength as their greatest weakness. The more Harry threw at them, the more likely it was that they would buckle. While their great minds were usually a help to them when it came to methodical research, they were also prone to over-think in the heat of the battle. Thus, that momentary lapse in thought allowed the opening Harry would need to strike.

Then there were the Hufflepuffs, a House that Harry found intriguingly interesting. Predictably, their most prevalent trait during Battle class was their honesty and earnest. While he had seen other Houses in replays resort to under handed tactics (a Gryffindor, of all Houses, cleverly threw sand in her opponent's faces when the setting was right), Hufflepuffs rarely sunk to that level. Instead, it was their refusal to give up that was their calling card. True, most Hufflepuffs weren't as talented when it came to raw magic as the other Houses, but their never-say-die attitude often led to strange victories.

The Battle that Harry watched from 1984 was versus Slytherin. The two Fourth Year Houses took on one another in a forest setting that included a hedge maze and a cluster of trees on each side of the hedge. The result was a House match that was often decided on split second instincts. Naturally, the Slytherins were more adept at setting traps and ensnaring the Hufflepuffs through subterfuge, but the Hufflepuffs caught on after several of their House mates had fallen to the nefarious traps.

They dug in and it was the Slytherins who had to wander through the hedge and the forests to find Hufflepuffs. Eventually they grew tired and impatient and Harry could only reason that it was their self-belief that they were better than the Hufflepuffs that got the better of them. They grew arrogant and started wandering out unguarded, thinking they could defeat the Hufflepuffs in open battle and that exposing their selves and covering more ground was the best way to defeat them. Of course, they lost as the Hufflepuffs literally dug themselves into the ground, camouflaging their bodies in such a way that the Slytherins could barely identify where the spells were coming from. Yes, the Slytherins were more skilled but it was their arrogance that once again lost the battle.

 _Do not underestimate Hufflepuff_.

Harry underlined the note and looked up to see his two friends arguing about something inane again.

"Blaise, what part of Daphne wants nothing to do with you do you not get? She said it herself in the dorm. She thinks you're a pompous asshole that's just two head sizes shorter than Draco!" Tracey argued.

"Let it be known that that's the only area I'm two sizes shorter than Draco." Blaise waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively and Tracey's face blanched.

 _Attack the Ravenclaw_. Harry scribbled, only mildly paying attention to his two friends.

 _Trap the Gryffindor_. That covered all three Houses, but there was one more House that he would have to plan against.

"Harry. Earth to Harry? Helloooooo." Blaise snapped his fingers in Harry's face and Harry brushed them off with a laugh.

"What?"

"Have you been listening at all? Do you think I have a chance with Daphne?"

"Wouldn't hurt to try." Harry shrugged.

"It would hurt actually. She's a known kicker and puncher," Tracey warned. Pivoting to Harry, she asked, "What's got you so lost in the clouds again, anyways? Don't tell me it's this Hufflepuff match that you keep thinking about."

Harry decided to answer her question with one of his own. "What's your greatest weakness?"

Tracey flustered, as Harry could always tell. She would still stare straight forward and deliver a response as if she wasn't caught off-guard, but he could always tell by the way she played with the ends of her curly hair and the fact that she blinked so much that her eyes looked like they were fluttering.

"What...what do you mean?"

"It's a rather simple question, Tracey. You do know the definition of weakness don't you?" Blaise mocked.

"Yes," she snapped. Tracey hated it when others tried to make her look vapid. "In terms of what?"

Harry shrugged again, interested with her open response. "Anything. Go on."

"I don't know. I guess I can be a little...pushy?"

"And how do you think that translates into duels?"

"Harry." Tracey and Blaise both groaned his name, realizing the intent behind his interrogation.

"No! No! Listen to me and think it out. How does your perceived pushiness pour over to your dueling skills?"

Tracey bit her lip and continued to twirl that curly strand of hair as she looked off into the distance, her bright, blue eyes shifting around in her eye sockets. "I think that sometimes I try the same thing over and over again even when it's not working."

"Very good. I noticed the same thing."

"You did?" Tracey was clearly surprised.

"Yes, of course. Neither of you are ever prepared enough by the way."

"I'm sorry I don't devote all of my time to sticking my head into those Stationaries and watching match after match like some obsessed goblin. Really, Harry, you're already that high on the Master List. How about you give some of us a break?"

"How about you try harder, Blaise? You and I both know you could do better if you just put some effort into it."

"I get by on raw skill. Any more and I won't have time to practice my other arts."

"And what other arts are that?"

"This art." Blaise stood up and proceeded to stalk Daphne Greengrass as she left the Slytherin Common Room.

"I hope he gets kicked in the balls again," Tracey crassly said.

"If he applied half as much effort into reviewing his dueling technique, he would be higher up the list too."

"Not everyone's as obsessed about it as you are, Harry."

"I'm not obsessed!"

"All you do is watch match after match. Duel after duel. How about you give it a rest and take a walk with me?" Tracey asked, her blue eyes holding a hint of pleading.

Harry did already have the necessary scrolls to submit to Trow, more than needed actually. The rest of his schedule looked to be pretty empty so he rolled up the parchment and stood up with a definitive grin. Extending a hand out to Tracey, he smiled and said, "Let's take a walk then."

She happily took his hand, her hand lingering ever so slightly as he let go, but Harry didn't seem to notice. As they left through the secret passageway behind the wall, neither of them noticed the pale gray eyes following them out.

* * *

The class with Trow proved to be a lambasting of everyone who didn't take the assignment seriously. Truth be told, more than a few Slytherins had done the minimal amount of work necessary when it came to analyzing a Hufflepuff match and Harry didn't doubt that the same few thought the Hufflepuff study was beneath them. Trow didn't seem to think so as his pale, blotchy skin filled up with a red hue as he aggressively asked question after question to the same few students. Draco, surprisingly, was not among them. He had written a report that was about half of Harry's size, but still well above the minimum threshold. Unfortunately, Blaise had predictably slacked off on the work and found himself in the midst of a battle of witty repartee with Trow.

"Why do you think the Hufflepuffs succeeded, Zabini?"

"They bored the Ravenclaws to submission?"

Needless to say, Trow was none too pleased and assigned them even more homework, this time ordering them to watch a Ravenclaw match. Draco complained loudly but like usual, he was all bark and no bite. They had that class with the Gryffindors and Harry had to ignore some snickers and jibes from the likes of Ron Weasley and the rest of his entourage. Harry also avoided eye contact with Hermione Granger again though he distinctly felt a pair of eyes watching him from the other side of the classroom where the Gryffindors sat.

As class was dismissed, Harry lingered behind to talk with Trow about the Ravenclaw match they had just watched, and to his surprise, Tracey stayed behind too. Trow was explaining the advantages of splitting the larger group up when the herd of Gryffindors walked by, jostling Harry as they did.

"So they split into half? Or half of a half?" Tracey asked about the movement.

"In some circles, they call that a quarter," Hermione Granger piped up as she walked by.

The Gryffindors guffawed at this and Tracey burned in embarrassment, opening her mouth to retort but finding nothing to say in front of Trow. Harry turned around to tell Granger to shove off, but she was already gone, her body cradling a stack of books as Weasley and his compatriots continued to laugh at Granger's snideness.

_Not the nicest one, is she?_

Tracey had some more choice words to say about the Gryffindor, Muggleborn champion as they continued to their next class and Harry could only nod along with her as Blaise repeated the joke under his breath and laughed at the same time.

"It's not funny!" Tracey cried as they turned the corner and avoided some Ravenclaws that "bumped" into Harry again.

"You have to admit that it is. Even if Granger has a stick up her ass, she got you good there, Trace," Blaise said.

"She's got a stick up her ass because she's insufferable and has no friends. And I knew it was a quarter!"

"Do you know what half of a quarter is?" Blaise teased.

"An eighth..." Tracey responded hesitantly.

It was true though. Granger rarely socialized with her other Gryffindors in the Great Hall and she certainly didn't go out of her way to talk with them when they were in class. Of course, that could just be contributed to her famously studious nature, but the only person he had seen to spend consistent time with her was that bumbling oaf, Neville Longbottom. If Merlin had ever cursed someone with just enough magic not to be a Squib, it was Longbottom.

"Why do you think she doesn't have any friends?"

"Well, she's ugly. She's a know-it-all. She always thinks she's right. She constantly puts down other people. She spends all of her free time studying. I think she might also be a lesbian." Tracey counted off the list of reasons one finger at a time, easily ripping off the insults.

A choked cry could be heard from behind them and they watched the subject in question rush off the other way, her bushy hair trailing behind her as she did.

Tracey blanched, looking torn between not caring and feeling regretful. "Well, I didn't  _really_  want her to hear all of that."

"At least you got her back pretty good." Blaise snickered as he continued to walk along.

Tracey shrugged, apparently over it and followed Blaise back to the Common Room for their free period. Harry paused in the hallway though, looking around the corner that Granger had ran around.

"Harry, come on!" Blaise called as he turned the corner, not waiting for them.

"I think I'm going to Trow's and watch some more matches," Harry said.

Tracey rolled her eyes at him and bid him good-bye as she caught up to Blaise. Waiting until they turned the corner and their footsteps were long gone, Harry followed Granger around the corner instead of making an about face for Trow's classroom. She wasn't in the immediate vicinity, but he kept walking until he heard a quiet whimpering. He was on the Third Floor and he immediately knew where she had gone for some reprieve. The girl's bathroom on this floor was often abandoned because it was the haunt of Moaning Myrtle and Granger must have concluded it was as good of place as any to have a good cry.

Harry paused but knocked on the door, wanting to make sure it was Granger and not some other simpering girl.

"I'm busy in here!" It was definitely Granger.

Not bothering to ask for permission, Harry pushed open the swinging door, coming face to face with the teary, red-faced Gryffindor girl. He didn't say anything for a moment, shoving his hands into his pockets as he fidgeted with the urge to avoid her gaze.

_She's not a Legilimens. Get over it!_

"What?" She sniffled. "Come to tell me what a know-it-all I am?"

Instead of answering with words, Harry summoned a tissue from the inside breast pocket of his robes. He levitated it over to her so she had no choice but to take it and while she didn't look too happy, she still wiped away her tears with it.

"I'm sorry about Tracey. She can be a bit blunt sometimes," Harry offered as means for an apology.

"What does it matter to you? I didn't hear you disagreeing."

And in truth, Tracey was right on a couple counts. Granger was a known know-it-all and even now, she was putting him down. If her time spent in Trow's classroom was any indicator, she was even more studious about matches than himself, but Tracey was wrong on one count. Granger was very pretty in her own way.

Harry shrugged. "I'm sorry about that. If you want an apology, you can ask her, but I doubt you'll get one."

Granger snorted, blowing her nose into the wet tissue. "Then what are you doing here? Come to see the full effects?"

"I -" Harry paused, not really knowing  _why_  he had followed Granger. Part of it was because she had consumed his thoughts lately, but another part of it was to make sure that she was okay. After all, he knew what it felt like to be unfairly judged.

"Let's just say that I'm interested."

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Interested in what?"

"What else?" He shrugged. "How you beat me. Obviously I can't ask you in front of everyone or else they're going to think I'm groveling for advice from you, but I have been thinking about it a lot."

She rolled her eyes again and Harry wondered if girls did that in the mirror to perfect the art of disapproval.

"You're not a...Legilimens, are you?" Harry hesitantly asked.

Granger snorted again. "Please, Potter. If I were, I'd be able to do more than beat you in a duel."

 _Well, at least that's a confirmation. Or she could be lying to me. But if she were, she would be able to hear this...Granger, can you hear this?_ And then he imagined Headmaster Snape naked.

When she didn't make any sort of visual recognition that she had read his thoughts, Harry was positive she wasn't a Legilimens. There was no way she couldn't react to the horrible image of a prancing, nude Snape.

"Potter, I'm not going to tell you. Now would you mind leaving me alone?" Granger turned away from him, apparently ending their already abrupt discussion.

Harry stuck his hands in his pocket, knowing his line of questioning was more to fill the gap than anything else. Still, he knew what it felt like to be ostracized and felt compelled to say, "They don't all hate you, you know. They're just jealous."

Hermione Granger turned around to address this accusation, but Harry was already long gone.

"Is he a Legilimens?" she whispered to herself.

* * *

Headmaster Snape was waiting for them outside the Room of Requirement, his hands behind his back and his expression as placid as always. Class was with the Ravenclaws for two weeks and Harry knew that they were generally the biggest challenge. If Snape was standing outside the Room of Requirement, then it was generally known it was a House Match. The thought excited Harry as they had just gone through individual duels for their two weeks with Gryffindors.

"Quiet." It was just one word, but it was spoken with such clarity that the usual chatter died down in a heartbeat.

"Today will mark your first day of inter-House matches. You are outside of the room today so neither of you gain a competitive advantage. Nonetheless, due to the unique setting of this particular match, one House will enter first. That will be decided on a coin flip. I require a representative of each House." Snape said all of this in one rapid fire breath.

Anthony Goldstein stepped forward for the Ravenclaw House, but the Slytherins remained static. They hesitantly looked around at each other, but it was Harry that finally stepped forward, ignoring the indignant scoff of Draco.

"Galleon, Sickle, or Knut?" Snape asked, one hand behind his back this time.

"Sickle," answered Anthony.

"Knut," Harry replied.

"It is a Sickle." Interestingly enough, Snape never showed the silver coin. "Ravenclaws enter first."

There was a small whoop from the Ravenclaw crowd while the Slytherins groaned. Everyone knew that the advantage of knowing the playing field first was key to defeating the other House.

"Good job, Potter." Malfoy sneered.

"Furthermore, you will enter in groups. Boot, take four of your members. Goldstein, take the other four."

They split into two halves and Snape let them into the room. There was no telling what sort of scenario Snape had envisioned. During a memorable House match against the Gryffindors in there First Year, Snape had placed them all in a giant room with walls that slowly enclosed them. More than one student found themselves with an accident in their pants during that exercise.

"Malfoy, take Zabini, Davis, and Goyle. Nott, take the rest. Except for you, Potter. You're going in alone."

Harry fumed.  _Of course I am_.

He didn't exactly know what Snape was playing at, but he didn't like it. Tracey gave him a sympathetic glance as she slowly trotted off to join Malfoy and Blaise, but the rest of the Slytherins were looking at him oddly. What did Snape want to do by isolating Harry? If Snape thought he was doing something clever, he gave no indication of it as he turned his back and allowed Nott's group to enter the Room first. Malfoy, Tracey, Blaise, and Goyle followed soon thereafter.

Then, he was alone in the hallway with Snape. The headmaster's back was still turned to him so Harry was content with glaring at said back, wanting to know why the headmaster seemed to have a vendetta against him. Why did Snape go out of his way to make things hard for him?

"Why am I going in alone, Professor?" Harry dared to ask.

"You're setting records in terms of your placement in the Master List at your age, Mr. Potter. You must be held to different standards," Snape drawled. "Now, in."

Harry obediently walked into the Room of Requirement, still angry over his isolation. When the door closed behind him, Harry realized that Snape had handicapped him far more than he thought possible.

* * *

The fog was thick, impenetrable, and surrounded him at every angle.

He literally couldn't see two feet in front of him nor could he see any of his fellow Slytherins or the opposing Ravenclaws. In short, Harry was blind to the world and no degree of corrective lenses could solve this situation. Right away, Harry knew it was a manufactured fog because his glasses weren't fogging up like it usually would. Instinctively, he crouched, trying to make himself a smaller target for stray spells.

In the distance, he could hear voices and shouts but at least they were together and able to defend each other. Alone, Harry could do nothing but hopelessly wander around. For a second, he didn't move as he tried to gain his bearings. Though he couldn't see, he could still hear and the soft putter-patter of feet told him that there were people close by. Unfortunately, Harry didn't know if it was Tracey and Blaise walking by or Anthony Goldstein and his merry band of Ravenclaws.

_Think! Snape wouldn't give us this challenge if there wasn't some catch. Fighting blind is hopeless._

So Harry started backing up, keeping his wand in front of him. He wanted to light a  _Lumos_  to see if he could pierce the fog, but doing so would be akin to waving a sign that said, "I'm over here!"

Instead, he slowly walked backwards, his wand in front of him and his left hand behind him in case he ran into anything. The first order of business would be to find out if there was a wall he could put his back to. If there was a wall, he could eliminate one avenue of attack and focus his efforts on everything in front of him. Yet, he knew that Snape could have easily made this an endless open space of fog. Still, there had to be some sort of catch.

Keeping his ears tuned, Harry could hear nothing but shapeless sounds bouncing back and forth through the fog. The dense cloud prevented him from even seeing shapes and shadows and it had the added effect of claustrophobia. It enclosed him at every angle, but Harry kept his breath calm and deep. It would be no use to fall into a panic over a simple setting.

"Did you hear that?" A disembodied voice floated through the fog with near proximity. Harry immediately fell to the ground, his belly flat against the flat, marble floor. The male voice was nearby, but Harry couldn't distinguish one voice from the other. It could just as easily have been Nott or Crabbe.

The murmur of voices was still close and left with no other choice, Harry started crawling towards the source of the sound. If they were Ravenclaws, Harry had the jump on them and could at least take a few of them out for his fellow Slytherins. If they were Slytherins, at least Harry wouldn't be alone in this fog of war anymore.

He crawled on elbows and knees, trying to make as little sound as possible. To avoid clatter, Harry kept his wand in his mouth, biting down hard to make sure it didn't fall. Whoever they were weren't moving and Harry could only hope he was approaching them with their backs turned. If they happened to be Ravenclaws, he would be crawling to his doom.

The voices were louder now but still indistinguishable. Harry surmised that he couldn't have been more than ten feet from them, but still, the fog was so thick that he couldn't even make out body shapes. All he could hear were their voices. He unfolded into a crouch, balancing on the balls of his feet so that he could move quickly if they were indeed Ravenclaws. Just as he was about to move the next couple of feet and identify the group, an enormous gong almost shattered his eardrums.

_GONG!_

At once, the fog lifted and Harry stared into the face of Anthony Goldstein and four other Ravenclaws. In that split second, Harry noticed how big of a nose Anthony had and how his thick eyebrows jumped in surprise and how his eyes flicked upwards towards the scar on Harry's forehead. The small millisecond of paralysis disappointed and Harry did the first thing that came to mind.

Harry punched him square in that big nose of his.

Though physical violence was normally an ineffective tactic, the close range quarters provided Harry with the quickest way to disorient Anthony. The Ravenclaws seemed too stunned to do anything as Harry quickly sprinted away. After a few seconds, they regained their senses and fired spells at the retreating Slytherin, but Harry had escaped too quickly, a skill honed by years of bullying by his cousin, Dudley Dursley.

A simple  _Protego_  would have blocked any of the spells had they been on target, but they were still in shock from Harry's aggressive move. Instinct had taken over Harry and while he certainly wasn't the biggest fellow, years of taking punches from Dudley and his friends had taught Harry some key weak spots that one should cover. The nose was definitely one of them and Anthony was lucky if his nose wasn't broken.

Just as quickly as it was lifted, the fog settled in again, obscuring any vision. Still, Harry's foray into the Ravenclaws had served its purpose as he could now identify them before than they could find him. They were moving in a group, a group that tended to make noise no matter how careful they were. Harry was by himself, a fact that seemed to help him more than he originally thought. The Goldstein group was quiet again, no doubt suspicious and aware of Harry's nearby location.

Having a minute to brainstorm, Harry realized that the fog would be lifted at the next gong. The Ravenclaws would reach this same conclusion just as quickly and would take preparations for any such attack. Thus, Harry couldn't risk an attack right away. At least, not an attack that would almost guarantee his knockout. A far better movement would be to pick them off one by one. The only problem was that there seemed to be no cover in sight. Even if Harry attempted to knock the Ravenclaws out one by one, they would clearly see him attacking them.

_Where is the rest of my House?_

The ruckus must have caused one of the three remaining groups to gravitate their way, so Harry pressed himself to the ground and listened again. Yet, the only thing he could hear was the rapid beating of his own heart. The Goldstein group wasn't making any more sound. If they had somehow gotten nearer, Harry would be plainly visible at the next gong when the fog lifted.

And sure enough, the gong came again.

_GONG!_

The spells came in a furious rush. With the fog lifted, Harry could see that the Ravenclaws  _had_  found a form of shelter. It was a shell that had square holes cut out of it. It resembled a pyramid and Anthony had somehow managed to get him and the rest of the Ravenclaws inside in a short amount of time. Again, Harry responded instinctively and curled into a tight ball.

When Dudley and his friends finally caught him, Harry learned it was best to curl into a ball to become a smaller target and protect vital body parts. That was how he felt as he curled into a ball and let the his  _Protego_  absorb as much of the spells as it could. Most of them sailed wide but his shield held as the fog retook the arena. Still, the Ravenclaws were smart and kept firing at where they thought Harry was. The murky air was alight with spells and Harry had to gingerly crawl along the ground to a safe area but not before a Cutting Curse nicked his temple.

A burst of pain followed by a dull trickle caused Harry to reach for his head, his hand slick with blood. He was no stranger to pain, a staple of these House matches, but something inside him ignited. Maybe it was being forced to curl into a ball, reminding him of all the times Dudley had kicked him in the ribs. Maybe it was his frustration with the fog. Maybe it was that damned Granger for beating him.

He stood up, his back ramrod straight and heard voices to his left.

"Malfoy, I think Harry is this way!"

"Hold  _still_. Potter is going to get himself hit and then we'll take the Ravenclaws by surprise. They want to hit Potter so bad they'll never see us."

"But Malfoy, Harry needs our help."

"It's for the  _House_. Don't forget that, Zabini."

 _Malfoy always thinks he's right_. The plan formulated in his head, stark clear and half-mad. It was First Year all over again. But one thing kept hammering into his head and he couldn't get it out.

 _Attack the Ravenclaw_.

" _BLAISE, COLUMN TO THE LEFT!"_

"ZABINI, IGNORE THAT COMMENT!"

" _TRACEY, NOTT. COLUMN TO THE RIGHT!"_

" _IGNORE THAT!"_

Harry took a running start, sure the Ravenclaws would be mightily confused with all of the yelling. He trusted Blaise and Tracey to take their positions and once he had done what needed to be done, they would easily be able to mop up the Ravenclaws. His feet padded against the flat, marble floor and the fog didn't even feel like a mist as it whipped against his face. He knew where the Ravenclaw shell was and he knew exactly how to disrupt them.

" _FOR SLYTHERIN!"_

His knees bent as he ran up the pyramid-like ramp. There was a hole at the very top and he already had a spell on his lips as he descended upon the middle of all the Ravenclaws.

_GONG!_

* * *

Harry didn't remember much of the moment. Raw instinct took over as he landed with a jolt amongst the Ravenclaws inside the quartered pyramid. Blaise though, saw the whole thing up close.

"We told Malfoy to fuck off and formed the columns like you said. We didn't really know what was happening but when the fog lifted, all we saw was you hurtling through the air! There was blood all over your glasses and you kind of looked like a maniac, but you landed on all the Ravenclaws and you took out three of them before they even had the sense of reason to try and get you. But they were so confused that they were hitting each other and it took a while until Padma Patil finally had the sense to take you out. By then, we had them all trapped and just shot at all of them. It was like shooting Flobberworms in a barrel."

Harry smiled when he heard the description, laying down in the hospital bed with a bandage wrapped around his head. He might have been the only Slytherin stunned, but he took solace in the fact that they still won.

* * *

 


	5. What Is Necessary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry encounters unexpected trouble.

Harry shivered in his sleep, tossing and turning as and endless plague of screams filled his dreams. They were high and shrill and sometimes words were intermixed but he could never distinguish one voice from another. In the end, a high laughter always preceded his awakening.

Cold sweat poured down his back as he wiped the damp perspiration off his forehead. Whipping off the blanket, Harry drew a robe around him and padded down to the Slytherin Common Room. It could never be conceived as warm or homely, but there was a certain drama to the room that Harry always found attractive. It was wide with dark, ebony furniture accented with green and gold trim. Everything in it was of the most elegant nature, from the plush rugs to the fine handle of the poker. Along the walls were deep, green banners with the Slytherin emblem and a snake intertwining the banners. The lighting was always dim, clustered around a few lamps that constantly gave the impression that everyone else was in the shadows.

Harry took a spot on one of the love seats by the fireside though there were no embers burning. A quick  _Incendio_  did the trick and Harry watched the fires burn for a little while, trying to wash out the screams from his dreams. He had always them and while he suspected the true origin of his dreams, they never came into to detail. It was always vague, filled with a familiarity that was just out of recognition. The warm glow of the fire was starting to envelop him and the cold, chilling laughter was finally ebbing away.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Tracey plopped down next to him, a loose robe covering her shorts and a dark green tank top. She bent her legs so that she was in a little ball, her arms wrapped around her shins and her chin placed on top of her knees. She watched the fire for a minute or two with him, not caring that he didn't answer. What other possible answer could there be for sitting in the Common Room at 3 in the morning?

"What's your excuse?" Harry finally asked.

"Millicent tends to snore. I woke up to use the loo and all was lost from there."

Harry chuckled, lifting his eyeglasses to rub his tired eyes. He knew that Tracey wanted to ask why he was awake too, but he never told her. It was too embarassing to disclose to her that he woke up in the middle of the night from nightmares. He was thirteen for Merlin's sake.

"You come down here a lot don't you? I mean, in the middle of the night that is."

"I like the fire. It's cold in the dorm."

"Oh."

It was a disbelieving noise, one that Tracey made often when she didn't want to press a subject around him. Though she was one of his best friends, Harry rarely opened up to either her or Blaise. Blaise would try to turn it into a joke and deep inside, Harry admitted that Blaise could probably care less. He was a person of opportunity and ambition and while Harry knew that Blaise put up a good front, he also knew that his dark friend was decidedly cold-hearted. It only made sense that he was in Slytherin with the rest of the snakes.

"How's your head?" she asked.

"Not a scar on it...besides the other one I mean."

Tracey smiled, pulling back a curly strand of her black hair behind her ear. "Did you know that when my Mum heard you were in Slytherin, she wanted to propose an arranged marriage between us right away?"

The abject horror on Harry's face must have made Tracey laugh because she was suddenly giggling uncontrollably, pointing at his face as she buried her head.

"I mean, I didn't mean it like that!" Harry protested. "I would be flattered to but – I just – that's a little..."

"...ridiculous?" Tracey finished, her blue eyes twinkling. "I told her that myself, but she still brings it up when I go home for the summer. Especially since we've gotten closer."

"Well, I'm sorry for that," Harry genuinely said. "I can't believe that your family still believes in arranged marriages."

"You know how Purebloods are. Traditional to the core."

"And your Mum would make an exception for a Half-Blood like me?"

"You're the Boy-Who-Lived. I think that transcends any blood status."

"Hmph. Not really a woman who sticks to her principles?" Harry raised his eyebrows at her with a mocking smile.

"Watch what you about my mother, Potter." Tracey tried to say it in an intimidating voice, but she dissolved into a fit of giggles again.

"Do you honestly care about that? All that blood stuff, I mean." Harry didn't look at her as he asked, content with staring at the small blaze.

"It has its place."

Harry saw her shrug out of the corner of his eye, carefully watching her reaction. She grew quiet, not wanting to extend the conversation any longer. Harry knew that he couldn't just blatantly ask her if she disagreed, but the lack of boasting or any gregariousness on her part appeased him. At least she wasn't like Malfoy. Harry suspected that she might have had her own reservations about blood statuses, but it was hard to buck against the House as well as her family values.

"And if I was a Muggleborn? Would she still want to try and arrange you and I even if I  _am_  the Boy-Who-Lived?"

Tracey drew her lips together, a slight tinge of annoyance that Harry recognized. She didn't answer for a moment, deep in thought. With an exasperated sigh, she disappointedly said, "No."

Harry nodded to himself, careful not to express any overt disagreement with her answer. Instead, he scooted over on the large love seat and patted the space next to him.

"The fire's warmer over here."

She didn't hesitate to get up, padding on the plush rug and curling up next to him so their arms were touching. Harry sat with his arms crossed and his legs stretched out in front of him while she resumed her position of sitting like a tiny cannonball.

"Do you care at all?" she wondered aloud.

In turn, Harry suspected that she knew he wasn't as deeply committed to blood statuses as the rest of the Slytherins. After all, he was raised by a Muggle family and didn't fit the traditional standards of a Pureblood Slytherin. Their constant proximity to each other also allowed her to see his frowns and looks of disdain when he overheard Malfoy or some of the older Slytherins.

"I'd be honored to be arranged to wed you." Harry deflected.

She punched him hard in the shoulder, the smile lighting up her heart-shaped face.

"Prat."

* * *

When Harry woke up in the morning, overcast skies started an already gloomy day. After a few more minutes, Tracey had fallen asleep in his lap and Harry had to gingerly wake her up and get her to bed. Only a few hours of slumber came to him before class started again and Harry took a little more time than usual facing the warm spray of the shower. Their first class that morning was Creatures with Gryffindor. It was the new House on rotation.

Professor Lupin was already waiting for them, still dressed in shabby robes. Usually, the class would file in with Slytherins on one side and Gryffindors on the other, but Harry amusedly noted that there were certain people, like Malfoy and his goons, who sat in the back. It was no coincidence that a few other Gryffindors sat next to him, still in the back of the classroom and as far away from Professor Lupin as possible.

If Lupin noticed the odd arrangement, he said nothing, only flashing them a smile as he closed the door with his wand. It shut with a finality and Harry heard a small whimper behind him. He could only smile at their fearfulness, not detecting any sort of danger with Professor Lupin. After all, he was only a werewolf for a short time anyways. Where was the harm?

"Good morning, everyone. I'm pleased to have a special project for you today. Headmaster Snape often talks about being fearless and conquering your fears in battle. But how can you know what you fear unless you see it? There is more than one way to conquer your fears but the easiest way is to see a physical manifestation of your own fear. Who can tell me a creature that can do that?"

Ron Weasley raised his wand, an oddity if Harry had ever seen one. "It's a Boggart, sir."

"Correct, Mr. Weasley! And who can tell me a Boggart does?"

Hermione Granger's hand shot up next and she patiently held it up even though it was clear that a lot of the Purebloods had heard of a Boggart. Lupin smiled at the bushy-haired teenager and tilted his head to allow an answer.

"A Boggart is a creature that manifests one's worst fear. It is often found hiding in dank, dark places where it can hide its true form until a person comes along. Its rare for someone ever to see a Boggart's true form."

"Correct again, Ms. Granger! Now with all of that information, can someone tell me what our special project will be today?"

Parvati Patil gulped and said, "A Boggart?"

Lupin smiled though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Astute, Ms. Patil."

Pivoting on the spot, the Creatures Professor brought forth a stand-alone closet that was already rattling, wobbling between its two legs. The class gasped and the audible sounds of chairs screeching backwards shrieked in their ears.

"No need to be alarmed! The Boggart is trapped inside this closet until I open it, now I want everyone to form a single file line."

It was a slow going and many made an effort to stay in the back of the line as they filled out. Eventually, Harry was somewhere around the first third with Tracey in front of him and Blaise behind him. In front was Ron Weasley, visibly shaking in time with the shuddering closet. Lupin hushed them, clearing the room of its desks and chairs and walking towards the corner where he had an odd vinyl, record player.

"The key to defeating the Boggart is to  _humor_. Imagine something amusing and turn that Boggart into something funny and it will lose its fearful form! The spell you cast is  _Riddikulus_ , but remember – humor is the key."

He placed the needle onto the record and the instrumental version of "Sing, Sing, Sing" started blasting over the magically amplified speaker.

"Come on!" Lupin encouraged. "Here we go!"

The closet burst open and a giant tarantula poured out, its eight legs flailing and smacking against the ground. There was a collective gasp as the class all took one step backwards and Ron Weasley suddenly lost all color in his skin.

"Weasley!  _HUMOR!_ "

His hand shook and the spell was barely above a whisper but Weasley managed to squeak it out.

" _Riddikulus..._ "

The tarantula suddenly had on bowling shoes, slipping on the slick floor as it toppled over in a heap. Weasley gave a relieved sigh and there were a few chuckles at the sight of the giant spider on its back.

"Excellent! Next! Next!" Lupin waved Ron away to the back of the line as Seamus Finnigan stepped forward.

Finnigan's Boggart was a Banshee who lost her voice when Seamus cast the spell. The Banshee clutched its throat, trying to shriek but failing miserably. Eventually, the class chuckled in appreciation, fearing the Boggart less and less as each student went up and took their turn. With the exception of a few students who had to say the spell more than once to make it work, the class generally dealt with the Boggart. There were some interesting fears, especially Lavender Brown's doppelganger that fell from the sky and splattered on the ground. She had to chant the spell to herself before her body suddenly jumped in the air and started performing an awkward Russian dance. Even then, she wasn't particularly convinced.

All of a sudden, Tracey stepped up to the metaphorical plate, tying her curly, dark hair into a ponytail and rolling up her sleeves. She had a determined look on her face as the Boggart writhed around on the ground as a lion without any teeth. The Boggart whirled in the air as it did when it morphed into shape and eventually, Harry saw Tracey's greatest fear.

It was all fire, a heat so scalding that Harry could feel it even from a distance. He heard someone gasp behind him as the fire started taking shape, forming legs and then a torso and then arms and finally a head with horns. It turned around, snarling and growling with a haltering cadence. The flames licked the floor, but Tracey was unmoved. She raised her wand defiantly and yelled, " _RIDDIKULUS!"_

A great wave swelled and washed over the fiery demon, dousing it as it gave a shrill wail until all that was left were dying embers. No one laughed. No one chuckled. No one even so much as snorted. Was that supposed to be funny?

Lupin, apparently undeterred, shouted, "Next!"

Harry stepped forward, wondering what would appear from the Boggart. He had a few ideas, mainly centered around Dudley and his friends. He hoped that it wouldn't show up though because that would be a bit of an embarrassment to someone who was supposed to be the first Third Year to ever rank that high on the Master List. The Boggart started taking shape again and Harry widened his stance like he was about to duel. He was wrong about it being Dudley.

He was not wrong about it being a Dursley.

The Vernon Dursley in the room was just as fat as he was in real life, his belly spilling over his belt with pants that barely stayed affixed around his waist. His mustache was twitching and Harry spotted the nervous tick his right eye took when he was furious. In his right hand was a brown belt rolled around his hand several times. He uncoiled it so that instead of holding the buckle, he held the other end of the belt. Vernon raised it above his head and bellowed, " _BOY!"_

" _Riddikulus_ ," Harry said in a flat tone.

Vernon started to swell, his belly inflating even more as his feet slowly came off the ground. The buttons at the top of his shirt rocketed off in different directions as his feet slowly came off the ground. His face was purple and his eyes manic, but the class laughed as Vernon started drifting towards the ceiling like an obese balloon.

"Next," Lupin said softly, making eye contact with Harry and giving him a furious look.  _What's he mad at me for?_ Harry thought.

Walking towards the back of the line, Harry chanced a look over his shoulder to see a young boy shivering with tattered clothes. Blaise said the words and the boy was suddenly cartwheeling all over the room. As Harry reached the back of the line, Tracey immediately leaned towards him and whispered, "Who was that?"

"No one," Harry quickly answered, "Some Muggle that I got in trouble with once. Don't know why that was the one who showed up."

Tracey nodded, accepting the story at face value. Sometimes, he wished she was more perceptive about things, but then again, he was the one that purposefully didn't tell her about his uncle. But he was interested in her Boggart.

"And yours? That looked like some fire demon."

Tracey shrugged, brushing her robes down and rolling back her sleeves so they were straight down her thin arms. "I've always been afraid of it. I had nightmares about it when I was little and they never really went away. Luckily, fire has a very obvious answer to it."

"Wasn't very funny though."

"It was funny to me."

The class ended quickly afterwards and Lupin asked them to write one scroll of an analysis of the Boggart's behavior and how to quickly defeat it. It was a relatively easy assignment, but Lupin insisted on using the experiences in class and relating it to their scroll. He dismissed them early, citing their excellent performance with the Boggart.

"Harry. A word with you, please," Lupin called him back.

Telling Tracey and Blaise to go on, Harry lingered for a second as Lupin shuffled his papers. He took his time to examine the professor with the graying hair. His clothes were baggy and a couple years worn, but Harry cold see lithe strong arms and a strong back. From his readings, he knew that transformed werewolves inherited some of the physical strength and though he was shabbily dressed, Lupin must have been very able.

"May I ask who that was?"

Harry smoothly answered, giving Lupin the same lie he gave to Tracey. "It was some Muggle I got in trouble with when I was little. Apparently, it scared me enough."

Lupin paused, giving him a piercing look. But Harry kept his face blank and his eyebrows slightly raised as if he was surprised that he was being told to stay back just for this. After a moment, Lupin nodded, his lips pursed and his expression defeated.

"You know, Harry. I was in Hogwarts many years ago. You should look me up in the yearbook some time. You'll be pleased to know we share many things in common."

"Okay, sure. Is that all?"

Lupin dismissed with a slight nod of the head and Harry left the classroom, bewildered as to why Lupin would ask him to look him up in the yearbook but grateful that he didn't press about Vernon.

Night fell quickly after their classes and Harry was once again in Trow's classroom, pouring over footage of previous duels. Tonight, he was once again focusing on Hermione Granger and her apparently psychic ability to predict spells. She was supremely confident in her form, never looking surprised as spell after spell was shot at her. In turn, she only used spells when it was necessary, often allowing her adversaries to tire themselves out or over extend themselves in frustration. In short, Hermione Granger was ruthlessly efficient.

It was an admirable quality, to be sure, but Harry was confident that he could overwhelm her next time they dueled. Her characteristics were too Ravenclaw, too practiced, and too predictable. Most importantly, she rarely led the attacks, allowing others to be baited into attacking her and exposing their own inherent weaknesses. There was merit to that plan as she was a girl as well as a Muggleborn. It must have been all the more frustrating to others who perceived her the way Tracey did.

Backing away from the Stationary Omnioculars, Harry saw that the room was dark and even Granger had left already. Trow kept one light lit for him, but it was already past supper and approaching curfew. His notes were near illegible in the dark so instead of continuing on, Harry packed his belongings and started towards the kitchens for a late night snack. The House Elves there always amused him and they never failed to bring him the best of desserts.

The corridors were dark, save for the torches that lined the walls and the moon hanging overhead, and Harry's rhythmic footsteps immediately allowed his mind to wander and stray.  _How can I get higher on the Master List?_   _It's not enough to just keep beating others and winning the inter-House competitions. I have to do something remarkable. Is that why Snape isolated me during the match versus the Ravenclaws? Did he want to see how I reacted?_

Harry hoped that he had acquitted himself quite well as no one else on Slytherin was even touched by a spell during that duel. In retrospect, there were other ways to solve the problem, but the suffocating blanket of the fog did its job. It disoriented him to the point where he couldn't think logically and rationally. Turning a corner to the kitchens, Harry was so lost in the clouds that he didn't hear the footsteps coming from behind him.

The first thing he felt was the sharp snap of his neck as something smashed against the back of his head. His glasses tumbled off the bridge of his nose, clattering against the ground as it crunched under the sole of someone's shoe. Instinctively reaching for his wand, Harry found that he was unable to do so due to the other foot that had fallen on his hand. Crying out in pain, Harry tried to wrestle free, knowing all too well the inevitable next step.

They always kicked the stomach, knowing that was where vital organs lay so Harry brought his stomach taut as the toe of another foot smashed into it.

 _There's four of them_ , Harry thought through the pain.

Instead of allowing the foot to escape, Harry threw his body over it, rolling the ankle and hearing the satisfied yell of one of his attackers. He twisted as hard as he could, but his other hand was still stepped on and so all he could hope for was a severely twisted ankle.

"Get the fucker off me!" The voice yelled.

A few more kicks to the ribs did nothing, but the shoe that connected with his cheek dazed him enough to loosen his grip. From here, Harry knew there was nothing he could do without his wand so he curled into a ball, tucking his elbows to take the brunt of the damage for his ribs and hoping they would avoid his head.

Luckily, wizards weren't nearly as adept at physical violence as Muggles. Harry already knew that they must have been Purebloods because they didn't take advantage of damaging his legs and instead went for the more traditional body shots. They stopped after a moment, but Harry didn't release from his position. Often, Dudley would stop just so Harry would open up and his fat cousin would start the assault all over again. If nothing else, Harry was a quick learner when he applied himself.

They did stop, their heavy breathing filling the halls. One, Harry assumed it was their de facto leader, leaned down and whispered, "You're nothing special, Potter. Just a little twat that everyone doesn't see. Think of that next time you go to Battle class."

Their receding footsteps meant that they were apparently leaving and truth be told, it was not the worst jumping that Harry had ever received. Once, Harry stole Dudley's candy cane during Boxing Day and Dudley had proceeded to stuff his mouth with snow. It was only through a slight moment of ingenuity that Harry started swallowing the dirty snow to prevent himself from choking.  _It's just water_ , he had thought.

Hoping to Merlin that no one else was in the hallway, Harry dragged himself to the Slytherin Common Room. Slowly opening the secret passageway, Harry was relieved to find no one in the Common Room for once. It must have been even later than he thought. Making haste, Harry took the stairs two at a time, ignoring the painful agony in his ribs and his abdomen. Nott was finishing his nightly preparations, so Harry paused outside of the lavatory, dearly hoping that his fellow Slytherin would hurry up. Fortunately, Harry caught him at the tail end of brushing his teeth. Quickly divesting of his clouds, Harry jumped in the shower, bringing a hand mirror with him as he did.

The hot water stung his skin, but there were few cuts. Most of the damage would manifest itself into bruises that could easily be hidden behind clothing as his Uncle frequently reminded him when he was young. He was fortunate that they didn't break his wand but even Purebloods wouldn't go so far. They wanted to send him a message, not get themselves expelled. A broken wand would lead to the Headmaster and Snape would quickly find the culprits. No, they just wanted Harry to know they were there, lurking in the dark when he didn't expect it.

There wasn't a lot of damage to his faith, thankfully, and Harry had brought some special ointment that could easily cover and heal the damage. Though he wasn't an expert with Healing spells, he knew a few that could fix some issues with the slight bruising on the back of his head and a quick  _Reparo_  fixed his glasses.

There was nothing he could do about the bruises on his ribs and his abdomen though. Those would have to stay and only time and the human body would heal it. Thankfully, they were easily hidden and Harry wouldn't have to explain them unless someone physically lifted his shirt and spotted the purple-yellow bruises. Those could be explained away as experiences from Battle class.

Yet, if they spotted the thin and criss-crossing scars on his back, that would have been much more difficult to explain. They would have started asking questions about why they were so faded and why they were so numerous. Those questions, Harry did not want to answer. He only wanted to be known by the one scar on his forehead, not the several on his back.

* * *

"Do you think this wise?"

"I think lots of thing wise. Conversely, I find lots of things to be madness. This is the second time you're questioning my judgment."

"Making him suffer for suffering's sake just doesn't seem to be the best course of action. Not to mention the effect on those boys. If they knew that they were subconsciously pushed to attack him..."

"I only enhanced what was already felt. The boy needs to know that enemies exist. Too long he has crushed all of his competition save for the insufferable Muggleborn."

"He  _did_  perform admirably against the Ravenclaws. Few doubt his courage and bravery, traits that..."

"...Gryffindors would admire, no doubt. Too many times that side of him rears its ugly head. Still, I doubt few Gryffindors would appreciate the ingenuity and timing of that plan. He also holds the command of his fellow classmates. They disobeyed Malfoy and took their positions even when they couldn't see him."

"It is a testament to his ability to get people to trust him. There is an earnest honesty about him. Do you wish to stamp  _all of it_  out?"

"I wish to stamp the trusting out. He must know that he can trust no one but himself. There is a difference in delegating others responsibilities and trusting them. Need I remind you of the last time the Potters put their trust in someone?"

"The Potters trusted a lot of people. Just because one of them failed doesn't mean that we should subject the boy to the radical opposite."

"How can you argue with the results? He is thriving."

"He is talented. There is a difference. There is no nuance. It is all sound of fury and we both know where the fury comes from."

"I stepped in whenever that blasted pig of an Uncle went too far. They won't remember, but I always prevented it from getting worse."

"But you still let it happen."

"It has hardened him. There is no question that his hardship is his motivation."

"I wish there were other ways to motivate him. He can only survive on anger and talent for so long. He needs to refine these talents, explore different ways to attack. It will be no use forcing him into these situations if he only reacts with barbs and talons."

"What do you propose?"

"The Muggleborn. Her way of doing things."

" _Her?_  I already have enough trouble with the wolf discovering things with the Boggart. I thought he would know something about harnessing the beast within, but I fear that he's quickly outgrowing his usefulness."

"He has his purpose. It would be too suspicious to release him now."

"Release him? Yes. Get him sacked? Not as difficult."

"There are more important things to worry about than the wolf. He needs the Muggleborn. He needs to start thinking differently."

"I fear you greatly overestimate her. She's nothing more than a product of luck and her classmates severe misconception that she's incapable. We already know her limits!"

"She has her limits but if she helps him untap his, what is the harm?"

"You know the harm."

"You said you would do everything possible to maximize his talent. This is the inevitable next step."

"Inevitable indeed. Fine. And you were sure that the boys can't be identified by him?"

"I'm positive. I just...this isn't right."

"A great man once told me that one must make a choice between what is right and what is easy. He forgot to mention that there is a third option...what is  _necessary_."

* * *

 


	6. Cryptography

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry searches for answers

The bruises made it hard to breath, but Harry thought he managed to avoid any cracked ribs. At worst, one of his ribs were bruised. While his sternum took quite a beating, his skin didn't turn yellow and purple like it did when Dudley would get in one of his moods. Purebloods weren't nearly as effective when it came to physical violence.

Nonetheless, the next morning was excruciatingly painful and Harry had to resolve being late to Transfiguration. McGonagall would be unhappy to say the least, but there would be too many questions if they saw him gingerly walking to the shower. Once he deemed the dormitory empty, Harry sat up, wincing from the ache in his core. Every step reverberated throughout his bruised body, but somehow, he made it to the shower and the hot air assuaged the pain for just a moment.

" _Enlargo_ ," Harry whispered at his shirt. Trying to squeeze his arms through the shirt would set his muscles on fire so he used an old trick to enlarge the shirt so it would just slide over him and then shrink it when it was on his body. Slipping into his pants took just as much effort and he had to settle with crudely tying his shoelaces with levitation. Anything to minimize physical movement.

It took twenty minutes, but he was finally dressed though he was profusely sweating. Casting a cleaning charm on himself, Harry finally made his way to Transfiguration, wincing all the while. He laid his hand on the doorknob and took a deep breath. Opening it, he disregarded McGonagall's imperious stare and walked towards an open chair with a normal gait. It was painful, but Harry stilled his face, only allowing his jaw to clench tightly.

"Mr. Potter." Her icy tone made no room for compromise.

"I apologize, Professor McGonagall," Harry quickly answered, "It won't happen again."

"Assuredly, it won't."

When McGonagall turned her back to write something on the board, Tracey, who was a row in front of him, threw a ball of paper at him. Opening it up, he found her neat scrawl.

_What happened?_

_Just woke up late._  Crumpling the paper, he deftly tossed it back at her so it softly touched her back and fell to the floor. She only took a minute to respond.

_Woke up late? You're never late!_

_There's a first time for everything_.

Harry threw it back at Tracey again, but the paper suddenly whirled in mid-air and fell a few feet short. Draco picked it up with a giddy expression and unwrapped the crumpled ball. Judging by the disappointed wrinkle of his nose, Harry concluded that the scheming blond was disappointed by the lack of juiciness in the notes. Draco threw the crumpled piece of paper back at Harry, but it suddenly vaporized in mid-air.

"Mister Malfoy. Mister Potter. Is there something you two wish to discuss in person with each other?" McGonagall asked with an impatient tone and an arched eyebrow.

"Draco keeps trying to talk to me, but I'm just trying to tell him not during your class," Harry innocently feigned.

"Mister Malfoy." She fixed him with one of her patented glares. "I assure you that you will have plenty of time to socialize with Mister Potter after class. If you want, I could give both of you even more time to bond in detention."

"That won't be necessary," Malfoy growled.

"Good." McGonagall haughtily sniffed as she resumed teaching.

Making sure she was turned around, Draco whipped around in his chair and petulantly glared at him. Harry just waggled his eyebrows back at him, enjoying the torment.

The rest of the class wasn't nearly as eventful as McGonagall taught them the rules of transfiguring wood. Once or twice, McGonagall called on him to answer and he had to physically prevent an agonized groan when he spoke. Each word reverberated through his bruised ribs and he could only hope that no one would notice his hand start shaking when he did answer.

Finally, Transfiguration came to an end and Harry went to careful lengths to wait until the majority of the students stood up to exit the classroom. Unfortunately, Tracey was carefully waiting for him, talking casually to Blaise.  _Curse them. Why can't they be less thoughtful?_

Indeed, it would be difficult to hide his ginger movements for a whole walk to another classroom. He could pretend to ask McGonagall a question, but he knew that Tracey would probably wait for him anyways. Instead, he walked out of the classroom under his own power without a hitch. Once he was outside, he leaned against a wall and closed his eyes as a new wave of pain overtook him.

"Harry?! Are you okay?" Tracey leaned forward to place an arm on his shoulder, but Harry visibly flinched. A flash of hurt crossed her face, but Harry's eyes were closed so he didn't register it.

"Yeah. I think it must have been something I ate last night," he added weakly.

"You didn't come back until everyone was asleep. Did the elves get you? Those little devils are evil. None of them ever like me," Blaise bemoaned.

"I'm sure they didn't do it on purpose." House-Elves would never even dare risk an accidental food poisoning, but neither Tracey nor Blaise thought much of them, so they accepted this answer.

"Well, do you want us to help you to the next class? Your face is so pale..."

"No, no," Harry brushed them off. "I'll swing by Madame Pomfrey's to see if there's anything I can do, but I'll meet you in class after, okay?"

"Just don't give whatever you have to me," Blaise shrugged, pulling against the bag strap on his shoulder. "Come on Trace. I have to talk to you some more about Daphne."

Tracey rolled her eyes but didn't leave right away. She placed a cool hand against his flushed cheek. He did his best not to wince as she frowned. "Please go straight to Pomfrey. Are you sure you don't need help?"

This time, Harry waved them away with his hand. "Get out of here. I"ll see that monster herself. You know she'll never let you hang around anyways."

"Let Harry go, Trace. He's a big boy. Pomfrey isn't going to steal him away from you."

Tracey lingered for a moment, but she followed Blaise along, casting one lingering look behind her to make sure Harry didn't suddenly collapse. Harry waited until their footsteps were gone before collapsing, falling over on his hands and knees. Thankfully, he had gotten far enough away from McGonagall's classroom and crawled to the nearest door to hopefully hide himself.

He wasn't quick enough.

"Potter?"

Hermione Granger was standing about ten feet away from him, her hair nastily bushy and her book-laden arms crossed in front of her like it was a shield.

_Oh for Merlin's sake. Of all people to show up!_  Harry didn't say anything as he tried to bring himself to his feet, but every movement was like a spear being shoved into his rib cage. He couldn't even make it a few feet before staggering and leaning against the stone wall.

She started forward when he first lurched but caught herself, uncertain as to how to react. Her books were pressed even tighter against her chest, her knuckles visibly white. The conflict was obvious in her body language and Harry had to chuckle despite the pain it caused to his abdomen.

"I find nothing amusing about your predicament. You're hurt." Her famous lack of humor reared its ugly head.

"I'm fine," Harry grunted, finally pushing through a wave of pain to stand up straight with just one hand pressed against the wall. "Go on your way, Granger."

He held his breath since breathing was an exercise in agony. She took one step, her eyes never leaving his. It almost looked like she was satisfied with his health, but she took too long and he could only hold his breath for a limited amount of time.

"Oh fuck me."

He exhaled and felt a fire go through his passageway and erupt something within his abdomen. His legs squeezed together and fell from beneath him and only Granger's awkward lunge to keep him afloat prevented what would have been an unfortunate meeting between his skull and the floor.

"Potter! What is wrong with you?!" She gasped, her books scattered all over the floor as she awkwardly lowered him to the floor, careful not to go too fast despite his heavier weight.

"Into the classroom," Harry wheezed. She opened her mouth to reject that order, but closed it for some odd reason and assisted him into the empty room. Carefully propping him into a chair, Granger took a step back and placed her hands on her hips as she surveyed his pitiful state.

"What happened to you?" she demanded.

"Got into a fight with the Whomping Willow. It didn't end well."

"Potter," she gave an exasperated sigh, "I don't have time for your stupid games. I'm going to go get Madame Pomfrey or get you to her."

"No!" Harry placed his arms around his delicate ribs. "No Pomfrey. Just...just give me a second."

"I think you're going to need more than a second."

Harry was silent for a moment, trying to find a way out of this situation that didn't require explaining the source of his injuries. Granger was annoyingly stubborn and didn't seem to take no for an answer. Furthermore, her over enhanced concern for his health was putting a damper on his plan of staying low.  _What to do? What to do?_

"Do you know any Healing spells?" he asked.

She shifted uncomfortably. "A few. None that can help you."

"How do you know it won't help me?"

"I know broken ribs when I see them, Potter."

_Oh do you?_  "They're not broken," he replied through gritted teeth.

"Maybe not, but you didn't get that just falling down the stairs or anything stupid like that. Falls usually focus the injuries on the limbs and neck since that is what you usually use to prevent damage. In order to get sufficient damage to your rib cage, it needs to be exposed. Last time Potter or I'm leaving.  _What...happened?_ " She spit the last two words out.

When Harry didn't answer, mostly because he was banking on the second part of her supposition, Granger gave another tired sigh and shook her head, her bushy hair waving about.

"Fine." Granger suddenly pulled out her wand from her robes, pointing it at Harry with a determined expression.

"You don't want to do that, Granger," Harry warned, despite his injuries.

"Potter, I'm taking you to Pomfrey. You're a stubborn idiot and I know those injuries weren't from an accident."

Her diagnosis of his injuries surprised him. Though there was nothing obvious from his physical appearance, she was still able to analyze him on nothing more than a few hampered movements. It didn't exactly take Merlin to figure out what was wrong with him, but what surprised him more was her incessant willingness to get him to Pomfrey. What had he done to earn him such a persistent faux-healer?

"You know very well I'm capable of disarming you."

_And here comes the arrogance._

"Granger, I'm warning you."

"You can warn me all you want. Go ahead. I'll let you get your wand."

It was no use. Even if he was able to get his wand in time, his defensive spell or any sort of spell would wreak all sorts of havoc on his injured body. She had him pinned and there was nothing he could do to prevent her from disarming him. _Does my reputation really cost so much that I would fight to keep myself from Pomfrey?_

But then Harry thought of the four people who had taken turns kicking him while he was on the ground. To him, they were just nameless faces intent on sending a message. But to them, he was a symbol of his superiority over them. They didn't have to be in Granger's House to know that he had gone to the Hospital Wing.  _Is it worth it?_

Apparently he had no choice.

That is until Tracey opened the door, her face contorted with alarm as she observed the awkward scene in front of her, Harry slumped in a chair with Granger pointing her wand at him. Blaise's head appeared above and behind Tracey's, just as perplexed. It took all of seven seconds for Tracey to get her wand out and even less time to start throwing accusations.

"Why you conniving, little Gryffindor witch," Tracey snarled at her.

"I want you to try, Davis. If you're as good as dueling as you are at math, this should be a treat." Hermione sneered back at her.

"Um, Harry?" Blaise questioned.

Harry's vision was swimming, the two girls in front of him coming in and out of view. His grip tightened against the side of the chair but it was no use.

"Oh fuck me," Harry said as he tumbled off the chair and fell into a merciful unconsciousness.

* * *

"...severe damage to his abdomen! You can't possibly expect me to..."

"...necessary for the program. He will recover..."

"...and what about next time, Severus? What about..."

"...I want no word of this to..."

"...and his friends? What do we..."

"...not to mention rampant instability and dangerous..."

"...I want no more arguments, he is to..."

Harry didn't remember exactly what the people were saying around him as he swam in and out of consciousness. All he could feel was the soothing and warm buzz around his ribs as the spell repaired them. Black dots precipitated his vision as he opened his eyes to the sound of silence. The bleak, white ceiling and curtains told him he was in the Hospital Wing despite all of his efforts to avoid it.

"Hello, Mr. Potter," the smooth, oily voice confronted him.

"Professor," Harry grunted, turning his head to see Headmaster Snape sitting in a chair next to his beside.

"How are you feeling?" Snape always asked that in such a way to indicate he didn't really care but a response was necessary nonetheless.

"Pleasant."

"I would hope as much. Madame Pomfrey has informed me of your injuries. Would you like to tell me how you got them?" Snape avoided his eyes as he asked this question.

"I fell down some stairs. They went left when I wanted to go right," Harry answered.

"These stairs must have been animated to deliver such hefty damage."

"I think they had it in for me. Maybe you should get that sort of thing checked out around here."

"And these stairs...did you know what floor they were on and why Hermione Granger was with Tracy Davis and Blaise Zabini when they found you?"

"My memory seems to be a bit hazy. I'm sorry, Professor. I think I was on the fourth or fifth floor?" Harry postured some more, taking some amusement with Snape's not so subtle hints.

"Mr. Potter." Harry could almost hear a sigh in Snape's voice. "I understand your need for discretion. In such a highly competitive environment, any weakness can be perceived as exploitable, but the truth will not escape these curtains. Your injuries indicate a higher severity than a simple fall down the stairs. Rest assured, those responsible will be brought forward."

It would have been so easy to just tell the Headmaster what happened, but Harry felt something amiss.  _Is this another test? Is he trying to see how I handle this situation as well?_  There were little upsides to telling Snape. He would be seen as a weak tattle-tale, incapable of defending himself and running to the nearest teacher for help. His fellow Slytherins wouldn't respect him for that.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I don't know what you're talking about."

There was only a slight pursing of Snape's lips that Harry couldn't quite discern. Was it annoyance? Disappointment? Either way, Snape didn't look very happy.

"Very well, Mr. Potter. I assume that if any stars try to change directions again, you will come straight to Madame Pomfrey?" Snape asked with an arched eyebrow.

"I'll probably try and make sure I avoid that staircase from now on."

"See to it that you do." Snape abruptly stood up from the chair, pushing open the curtains with both hands and sweeping out dramatically. He did it all in one smooth movement and Harry had to wonder if he practiced such an exit.

The Headmaster left and Blaise and Tracey soon appeared, opening the drawn curtains to see him. Blaise whistled lowly as he saw all the potions and remedies Harry had to take, as well as the wrap tied securely around his mid-section.

"Damn, Harry."

Suddenly, a panic overtook Harry.  _Did they see me with my shirt off? Do they know about the scars?_

Even if they didn't, surely the Headmaster and Madame Pomfrey must have known. After all, someone had to take off his shirt in order to see the damage. If they did that, surely they would notice the multiple scars on his back. He kept his back firmly against the bed, unwilling to let them see  _that_.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Tracey asked.

"What's there to tell?" Harry shrugged and as he did, he was pleased to find that it didn't hurt. In fact, all of the small movements that had pained him so earlier didn't inflict nearly as much pain now.

"For starters, it looked like someone was taking a Beater bat to your stomach," Blaise answered.

There was no point in lying anymore. Harry told them the story of the previous night, omitting the more grizzly details. Still, Tracey's face paled considerably as she sat down where Snape previously resided. Even Blaise, known for being brutally remorseless, gulped uncomfortably as Harry described how they kicked him when he was down.

"Harry...that's awful," Tracey clasped her hands over her mouth, her blue eyes wide as saucers.

"Does anyone else know? About my visit here?"

"Granger. She left a little while ago, but left you this." Blaise procured a single parchment and handed it to Harry.

Harry looked down at the parchment with keen curiosity. His name was scrawled on the top as "Potter, H." but that was all that he could read. The rest of it was written in illegible shorthand and looked nothing like the English language. There were numbers strewn all over the parchment, but none of them repeated to show a pattern. It was a cipher, cryptic and mysterious. The torn edges on the side indicated that it was definitely part of a set.

"She said you would know what it was for..." Tracey spoke slowly, her face guarded but her tone telling it all.

_It's how she beat me_.

"I don't know what it is," Harry answered, neatly folding the paper and placing it on his bedside table.

"It took me a while to calm Tracey down enough not to hex Granger on the spot. At first she thought that the Griff did something to you," Blaise explained.

"She didn't. Just poor timing," Harry kept his answers succinct when it came to Granger. "No one can know about why I was here. Make up something and stick with the original story, I got food poisoning. If anyone finds out why I'm here, they're going to..."

Harry didn't have to answer as Blaise and Tracey could both figure out why. Still, Tracey shook her head, the little ringlets covering her face.

"What about the four guys that did this to you?" she asked.

"Leave them to me. I have an idea about who they are."

"Who are they? I'm not as good at dueling as you, but I know a few tricks and a few people," Blaise said.

"I can't say right now, I need some more time. Just make sure that you tell everyone that I got sick of the food. They might not believe me and it might not matter if my attackers were from other Houses."

" _If?_  You're not implying that someone from Slytherin attacked you, are you?" Tracey bewilderedly wondered.

"It's unlikely, but I'm not ruling out anything. Besides, we already know one Slytherin that doesn't like me."

"But even Malfoy wouldn't..." Tracey trailed off.

"Are you sure about that?" Harry arched his own eyebrow this time. "Can you two do this for me?"

Blaise nodded, more comfortable with the lie than Tracey. "I'll make a big show about you getting sick. Maybe it'll knock you down a few pegs on the Master List so people can start taking action on you again. Do you want me to spread anything else?"

Harry thought for a moment but found nothing for Blaise to dissemble. "No, leave it like that for now. I don't want to start creating a convoluted story. First, I find the people that did this and then we can work on a cover."

"We," Tracey corrected. "We will find out who did this to you."

"Of course, of course." Harry waved his hand dismissively.

Their meeting was interrupted by Madame Pomfrey, looking as terse as Harry had ever seen her. All of them had gone to the Hospital Wing at some point in time for some superficial injuries, but nothing that required an overnight stay or serious healing.

"I need to talk to Mr. Potter alone." When Pomfrey talk, everyone listened.

Blaise and Tracey nodded, the latter leaving slowly as she explained that she would take care of everything. After they were gone, Pomfrey silently tended to him, performing diagnostics with her spells as well as making him drink copious and disgusting potions. She had her lips held tightly together as if she wanted to say something but kept herself from doing so.

"I'm guessing you saw them." Harry saw no point in circling around the problem.

"I saw nothing, Potter. Just as I'm sure that no one did anything." Her voice was strict and harsh, her old face lined with disgust.

There was another momentary silence as Harry awkwardly stayed still while Pomfrey's wand was waved over him.

"It was a long time ago, you know."

She didn't answer until she was finally done with her medical tests.

"I'm a Healer, Potter. Wounds don't lie and neither do scars."

* * *

Harry was released from the Hospital Wing in the middle of the night without much fanfare. Still, he waited for Blaise and Tracey to arrive so they could accompany him to the Slytherin Common Room. Tracey had her wand out the whole way and Harry could tell she was a bit on edge from every shadow and noise. Somehow, Harry knew that the bullies wouldn't attack all three of them. Their problem was with him, not Blaise and Tracey.

Despite the potential fallout from a known visit to the Hospital Wing, Harry felt much better about his body. Everything seemed to be healed and there were no broken bones as Granger thought. The folded parchment was tucked neatly into his pocket and after Pomfrey had left, he had taken some time to review it. From what he could tell, there was no obvious way to crack Granger's shorthand, but she wouldn't have given it to him if he wouldn't be able to crack it all. He would need a quill and some parchment to figure it out and even then, he wasn't confident. Analyzing dueling and battle abilities were one thing, deciphering a code was another.

He didn't mention the cryptic parchment Granger had given him to Blaise and Tracey. Blaise was curious about the note and its belongings, but Tracey was more concerned about the intentions behind it. Truth be told, Harry didn't know the intentions behind it either. Why would Granger give him the obvious path to her success? Tracey and Blaise would catch on eventually, but only Harry knew of their little conversations. Granger had delivered her key to victory against her opponent.  _What are you up to Granger?_

Intending to find the answer to that question, Harry made a few low-key inquiries on Granger's usual whereabouts. Her location was rather obvious.

The library.

As he walked through the hallways, he made sure to note reactions from people in his year. People always glanced at him as he walked by, most eyes flicking towards the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. While Harry didn't think himself as paranoid, he couldn't help but think that the kids in his year were staring at him differently. Most people regarded him with a strange curiosity or obvious resentment if one was a Gryffindor.

Yet, there was something else in everyone's expression today.

They looked at him as if they were sizing him up, measuring his ability. A few Ravenclaws and Gryffindors even looked down at him, radiating with obvious confidence. If Harry had any questions on whether others knew about the true reason behind his visit to the Hospital Wing, a quick walk down the hallway answered that for him. His attackers were in at least two other Houses and while the Hufflepuffs didn't usually look upon him with disdain, he couldn't rule them out either. Then, there was the problem of Malfoy. He was one of the few people that refused to let Harry have an easy time.  _Would Malfoy really go so far as to attack me with people from other Houses?_  That answer seemed to be no, but Harry wasn't sure anymore.

Blaise had done his best to loudly and obnoxiously make fun of Harry for getting sick over food and while there were a few amused chuckles from the rest of the Slytherins, the other Houses simply looked at him disbelievingly. They knew. And Harry knew they knew. It was just a matter of finding out who they were now.

Still, there were other things on Harry's agenda for the day.

Granger was tucked into the corner of the library, her desk preoccupied with dozens of books sprawled about. She was alone, of course, her nose almost touching the page of a book as she read and wrote at the same time. Harry leaned against a shelf, observing for a moment and not wanting to disrupt her infamous concentration.

"Figured it out yet, Potter?" she asked without looking up.

"You know I haven't. You mind giving me a hint?"

"No."

_Could she be any less blunt?_

Harry didn't come closer or pull out a chair to sit on. Still leaning against the shelf, he crossed his arms and asked, "Why'd you give it to me anyways? What's your game, Granger?"

She finally lifted her head from the book, her quill stopping mid-word. Her chocolate brown eyes regarded him coolly, but Harry could detect the smallest hint of...sympathy?

"I had no more use for those notes. I figured you'd need them."

"You took notes on me?"

"Don't be flattered," she scoffed, "I take notes on everyone."

"But that doesn't answer the question of why you would give it to me," Harry rebutted.

She shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. "You give me a challenge, Potter. It would be a waste if you didn't keep up."

Harry snorted. "Does the rest of your House know you're this arrogant?"

"I don't care what the rest of Gryffindor thinks of me."  _A lie_ , Harry thought.

"And what are they going to think if they find out that you're giving a Slytherin some help?"

Looking up from her book again, Hermione shook her head at him. "Not everyone in Gryffindor hates you, you know. They see you as their top competition and it doesn't help that your friends throw petty insults at them very time."

"Weasley starts it half the time."

"Ron exacerbates the situation, but I don't see you doing anything to quell it."

"He's fun to wind up."

Hermione rolled her eyes at this and ignored him. It looked as if Granger wasn't about to give him a hint or clue on how to decipher her parchment anytime soon.

"Do  _you_  hate me?"

Her quill stopped scribbling, but she didn't look up. "No, Potter. Not yet."

Harry smiled at that, laughing to himself. "What book are you reading anyways?"

"You wouldn't know it. It's a Muggle book."

"Try me."

"It's called  _Ender's Game_."

"Never heard of it."

"I figured."

A movement out of the corner of his eyes caused Harry to turn around. Neville Longbottom, arms filled with books huffed and puffed as he carefully navigated the messy pile and found some room to set the stack of books down.

"Got all of them, Hermione. I couldn't find the ones about..."

Longbottom trailed off as Granger made a show of looking at Harry. Harry raised his eyebrows at him as a form of hello.

"Oh," Longbottom's mouth formed a perfect O. "P-p-p-otter. What are you doing here?"

Harry had to bite back an amused chuckle and the glare from Granger told him that she would be none too pleased with him taking the mickey out of Longbottom.

"Just leaving," Harry answered. "Thanks again, Granger."

As he left, he could hear Longbottom's voice before he got out of earshot.

"What's he thanking  _you_  for?!"

* * *

 


	7. Uncontrollable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes on the hunt

The bruises healed quickly, eventually disappearing with the aid of Pomfrey's potions. Blaise kept his ears open for any word of subterfuge, but it appeared as if none of their fellow Slytherins harbored that much ill-will towards the Boy Who Lived. That being said, it was just as conceivable that they were aware of Blaise's soft investigation and kept their mouths shut. They were in Slytherin for a reason after all.

Yet, Blaise still came up with something.

"I paid off a couple First Years..." Blaise started.

"Paid off?" Tracey interrupted.

"Yes, paid off." Blaise waved her off impatiently. "How do you think I get people to talk? I got them to start talking and while they could have just been making it all up, they all report a lot of activity in the other House's dorm rooms the night they jumped you, Harry."

"All of the Houses?" Harry mused.

"Yes. All except for Slytherin. We're as close as we can to ruling out any Slytherins from this. I don't think even Malfoy would have the stomach."

"You're right. Physical violence isn't his style. At least, not when he's doing the kicking. Crabbe and Goyle maybe but none of them were that big. They were all of average height and, for the most part, I couldn't recognize their voices. Malfoy definitely wasn't the leader."

The blond boy in question was sitting on the other side of the Common Room, sprawled out on a plush, leather couch. Harry, Blaise, and Tracey were in the corner of the room. Harry was leaning against the wall, keeping an eye on everyone while Tracey sat in a chair next to him and Blaise knelt on the floor beside a table. Presently, it was roughly a week after Harry's trip to Pomfrey and their classes had rotated from Ravenclaws to Hufflepuffs in Battle class.

Harry's efforts to crack the cypher on Granger's cryptic page were fruitless so far. There weren't any discernible patterns in her shorthand even after Harry had summoned the books necessary for research in that regard. Most of the theories were over his head. He was never the best at solving logic and riddles, traits that were probably needed for Ravenclaws. Unfortunately, he couldn't consult anyone on the topic lest he reveal Granger's secret. Part of him thought that Granger was probably just having a laugh at him and that the hieroglyphics meant nothing, but she didn't strike him as the type for practical jokes.

"But all of the other Houses?" Harry continued his line of questioning. "Even the Gryffindors?"

"Yes. Furthermore, Granger was out too that night."

"It wasn't Granger." Harry shook his head.

"How do you know that?" Tracey asked.

"It's not her style. She beats me in Battle class, not jumping me with three other people in a dark hallway."

"Say, what'd you ever do with that note she gave you? It didn't make any sense to me," Blaise wondered.

_What's the harm?_

He kept it in his back pocket at all times, fearful that anyone would discover it. It was a paranoid thought and, truth be told, others were just as unlikely to crack the code as he was. Still, it comforted him to keep it there and as he pulled it out, he missed the surprised looks on both of their faces.

"Here," Harry handed it to them. "Maybe you'll have better luck at it than me."

Tracey snatched it out of his hand quickly, scanning the page and bringing it so close to her face that the tip of her nose was touching the parchment. Her eyes squinted, the blue of her eyes just barely visible as she tried to make sense of the gibberish. She shook her head after a moment, handing it to Blaise.

"I don't understand why she gave it to you in the first place. What is it?"

"I don't really know. I think it might be a spell or something or maybe the spell she used to make a copy of herself. Either way, I haven't been able to crack it."

"There doesn't seem to be a pattern of any sort." Blaise ran his pointer finger across the words on the paper, his dark skin scrunched together in thought. "I don't see anything either, Harry."

Recovering the inscrutable parchment, Harry folded it neatly and stuck it in his back pocket with a sigh. "I don't want to have to talk to her, but this is frustrating to me. What is this thing?"

"I think she's just playing with your head. Trying to throw you off so she can cheat and beat you again," Tracey said.

"She didn't cheat," Harry said dismissively.

"Maybe not, but it wasn't fair."

Their discussion came to an abrupt end as a bell rang for them to return to class. They were heading to Moody's Dueling class, paired up with Ravenclaws for this particular lesson. The herd moved about, the senior students moving effortlessly around their smaller counterparts. Harry led the way, moving craftily through the crowd. The banners of lists hung above his head and Harry spotted himself on the Master List at 27th. Scanning the columns, Harry found the Third Years list and saw Slytherin was first for the time being with Gryffindor second, Hufflepuff third, and Ravenclaw last.

Preoccupied with the standings, Harry bumped into a solid mass, throwing both of them off balance. Whoever it was, a Hufflepuff by the look of his robes, mumbled an apology and kept on moving with his group. Curious, Harry chanced a look back to see who it was but his back was already to him. Still, he could identify him by the hair and watched as that boy tried to hide an obvious limp. It was almost too small to notice, but Harry could see it from his vantage point. That boy was definitely favoring his right foot, the same right foot that Harry had rolled over in a vain attempt to escape the bullies.

 _Justin Finch-Fletchley_.

* * *

Harry was poor during Dueling class and Moody noticed it, barking and yelling at him frequently as they continued to try and master the art of nonverbal spells. While he accomplished the task of nonverbally casting a Stinging Hex easily, he had more difficulty trying cast multiple spells in a row. While Harry was convinced that he could have easily performed under normal circumstances, his mind was wandering to that awkward gait of Justin Finch-Fletchley.

He had to be one of the four.

It was by pure coincidence and accident that Harry had run into him, yet it revealed all he needed to know. Justin Finch-Fletchley, he of the supposedly genial Hufflepuff House, was one of his attackers. But it didn't make any sense to him. He tried to think of anything he could have personally done to the Hufflepuff but found nothing of note. At worst, he had defeated him during one of the Battle class, but he had been victorious over several people during Battle class and not all of them had taken to accosting him in the middle of the night.

It was almost inconceivable to him that Finch-Fletchley could be one of the bullies yet who else would have their ankle untreated for so long to still have a limp? It was near damning evidence in Harry's eyes and his blood boiled a bit as he thought about it, causing his Stinging Hex to have a little extra purchase on it.

"Ah, shit!" Tracey yelped, flailing her hand.

"Oh bollocks. I'm sorry, Trace," Harry apologized, lowering his wand and approaching her remorsefully.

"What's wrong with you today? You're all off."

He walked closer to her until he was standing side by side. Moody was yelling at Lisa Turpin about something or the other, so Harry figured he had some down time to chat. Pretending to show her the wand movement, Harry whispered, "I think I found one of them."

Tracey's blue eyes widened and she furtively looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to them. Blaise was partnered up with Daphne, so he was beyond approach while everyone else seemed busy with their spells.

"Who?"

"Justin Finch-Fletchley," Harry muttered as low as he could, making a show of waving his wand.

"Finch-Fletchley," Tracey scoffed disbelievingly. "You can't possibly think that a Hufflepuff would..."

"Hufflepuffs aren't any different from other Houses. I'm sure they have a bad egg or two."

"But Finch-Fletchley." Tracey still couldn't quite believe it.

"I'm forming a plan to find out more, but be careful, alright? I don't want them coming after you."

"It's you they're after, Harry." She turned to him, dropping all pretense of faking a spell. "Don't walk alone at night and don't spend as much time in Trow's classroom. That's how they're going to catch you."

"I know, I know." Harry ran a hand through his hair, eager to get out of the classroom and investigate the matter.

"Love birds! Get back to work before I send both of ya to detention!" Moody hollered from the other side of the room, making Harry and Tracey burn red as their classmates laughed and teased them.

They had a free period next, so after informing Blaise of Harry's suspicions, they asked a few First Years again and found that the Hufflepuffs were just exiting from Transfigurations. It would be terribly conspicuous if all three of them were tailing the Hufflepuff group so Tracey volunteered to walk as if she were heading in the same direction. Harry and Blaise tailed behind her by quite some distance.

Their sleuthing proved unremarkable however. Justin did nothing more than hang out with his friends, Ernie MacMillan and Susan Bones. After classes were over, they headed to the lake for a nice sit down on a breezy day. Winter had not yet befallen upon Hogwarts so there was some time still before the grounds were covered with tightly packed snow. Harry, Blaise, and Tracey sat off some distance, pretending to be engrossed in their conversation. Yet, after all that time, Justin didn't even glance their way.

"Are you sure it's Finch-Fletchley?" Blaise was the most skeptical of them. "I don't know if he has the balls to kick you."

"You saw his limp, didn't you?"

"It is there." Tracey pointed out.

"It could be from a number of things. Maybe he tripped over some stairs like you did, Harry." Blaise pointed out.

"No," Harry shook his head. "It's gotta be him."

 _I need to have a lead somewhere_.

* * *

So unknown to either Blaise or Tracey, Harry did start forming a plan. Later that night, as they retired to their bedrooms, Harry laid in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. There was nothing he could do but wait until the rhythmic sounds of breathing filled the room. He held his wand to his chest, his ankles crossed below him and his arms crossed in front of him. The soft sighs and movements of his sleeping dorm mates filled the void and it was around 11 when Harry decided to move.

Still fully dressed, Harry slipped his shoes on and walked towards the door. He paused in front of it, sparing a look at Malfoy's curtains. They were drawn together, like everyone else's, but Harry remained there for a minute, trying to gauge if the rich, blond Slytherin was behind it. There was no way to tell. For now, it seemed as if Malfoy was in the clear.

Exiting, Harry crept along the railing, confirming that no one was in the Common Room. It was late and the only people that were up were a few Seventh Years that didn't care if he left. Taking great care to stay quiet, Harry left the Common Room without looking back.

Even at night, the castle wasn't asleep. Soft murmurs of ghosts and piping were a constant hum in the background and there were still a few students and more than a fair share of teachers patrolling the hallways. Harry avoided them easily as their footsteps loudly preceded them. Still, he sought to be careful to avoid the teachers and patrols. Yet, he wanted to be found, not by the patrols, but by the bullies.

The timing of their attack wasn't a mistake. Obviously they knew of his schedule and habits, particularly his proclivity to be found in Trow's classroom on late nights. It stood to be reasoned that they would also know the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room judging by the interception of his route. While Malfoy might not have been actively involved in the beating, it was just as likely that he gave them information on the route Harry would take to return from Trow's classroom.

Loud footsteps clattered along the ground and Harry pressed himself into an alcove, waiting for the patrol to walk by. It was a Hufflepuff Prefect by the looks of it, but not Finch-Fletchley. No, the attackers would be quiet and try to sneak up on him if they were awake at this hour. Harry knew that it was unlikely they would be out at this random time of night. Most likely, they would try to attack him again when they knew he was anywhere else but the Slytherin Common Room. It would take too much time and resources to plant someone outside of the Common Room at all times. Still, Harry was searching.

Another patrol passed and Harry melted into the darkness once again, careful to take off his glasses so a random light wouldn't reflect off it and give away his position. The patrols were steady, a mix of Prefects and professors, but nothing Harry couldn't handle. Still awaiting some sort of stealthy movement, Harry was about to give up and retire to his room when he heard a humming.

It was a small girl, had to be a First or Second year since Harry didn't know her. She was clutching something to her chest, walking placidly and humming a tune to herself. It was quite odd, if Harry were to be truthful, but he avoided her nonetheless. To his great surprise, three bodies emerged from the bottom of a staircase, blocking this girl's way.

"Well, well, if it isn't Loony Lovegood." One of them said in an obviously mocking tone.

The small girl froze, clutching whatever it was even closer against her chest. The two others fanned out to either side, effectively trapping her. Harry knew the formation they were taking and reasoned that they didn't just want a night time chat with this girl.

"What's she got in her hands, Roger?" The older girl asked the speaker.

"It's another weird conglomeration, Marietta," said the other boy.

The one named Roger laughed as he took a step closer to the little girl. The little girl hummed to herself, the tune seemingly faster as she took a matching step back. Harry was unaware of how hard he was holding his wand.

"It's okay, Loony. I just want to see what you've got there," Roger cooed as Marietta snickered. Harry couldn't match the names to the faces as he hardly interacted with any of the older years.

Loony mumbled something and Roger knelt down with an innocent look on your face. "What was that, Loony?"

"You're going to take it again," she whispered.

"Now Loony." Roger tutted. "Be logical. If I wanted to take it, I would have just grabbed it out of your hand. We both know I'm stronger than you. Now be reasonable and let me see it. I just want to know what you made this time."

But Loony didn't move, her head tucked down as she kept humming that unrecognizable tune to herself. The sliver of light shining through one of the windows cast it directly on her, setting her in the spotlight as the three older students, Ravenclaws Harry assumed, surrounded her.

"Oh give it her, Lovegood," Marietta impatiently stepped forward, snatching the jingling object out of her hands.

It looked to be some sort of necklace made out of bottle caps. When Marietta realized this, she chuckled lowly, swinging it around her finger.

"Be careful with it, please," Loony pleaded in a soft voice.

"You're going to break the poor girl's heart, Marietta," the unidentified boy said.

"Oh shut up, Belby, I'm just having a little fun."

Marietta kept twirling it around her finger, the light of the moon occasionally flashing off one of the bottle caps. Hopefully, this was the extent of their teasing, intentionally malevolent but light hearted in objectivity. After all, there were ways to be attacked in the middle of the night.

"Can I have it back?" Loony asked.

"Well, I have it so its mine. Don't you know the rules of ownership, Loony?" Marietta mocked.

"But I  _made_  it."

"Did you now? But I think you gave it to me, unless you're saying I'm stealing it from you. Am I stealing it from you, Loony?"

There was a quiet silence, the soft whirl of the necklace of bottle caps whirling around constituting as the background noise. In a soft whisper, a thing would have been unrecognizable with just another modicum of noise, Loony said, "Yes."

The necklace of bottle caps fell to the ground, a noise that, in the moment, seemed loud enough to wake the castle. Marietta was no longer smiling and Roger was shaking his head with a small grin on his face.

"You're calling me a thief? That's very disingenuous of you, Loony. I'm no thief and you have no grounds to call me that." Marietta produced her wand and Belby chuckled, stepping out of the way to avoid any collateral damage.

"You stole my necklace," Loony said in a wobbly voice.

"I did nothing of the sort. I have two witnesses here that say I didn't steal anything."

"She didn't."

"I didn't see a thing."

Roger and Belby chimed in at the same exact moment, watching the torment with a tired but amused grin. From the looks of it, this was not their first time exacting this sort of punishment on a girl who had done nothing more than walk back to her Common Room. Harry thought of Dudley and the games he would play when they were back at home. Every answer would always be negative and even when he kept his mouth shut, Dudley would find some way to say that he was insulting him. Marietta was no different.

Harry could easily just let this happen. The worst thing they could do was hit her with some spell, but Harry doubted it would be anything meaningful. They were just toying with her, enjoying their power over her, but they wouldn't do anything for lasting damage. After all, Loony needed to be around next time. He could have just let this moment pass and go on undetected in his mission to find another set of bullies.

But he wasn't going to find that other group tonight.

"Give it back to the girl."

Harry stepped out of the shadows, his robes draped around him as he stood with his back to the moonlight. The added effect obscured his face and his body, allowing him to hide the fact that he already had his wand out beneath the sleeve of his robes. He could see Marietta and Roger squinting at him as well as finally seeing Loony's face.

She was a blond girl with large eyes, eyes larger than anyone else's. Underneath her robes, her clothes were an assortment of colors and she was already wearing a strange necklace and some other assorted jewelry that other girls would never have worn. He could see why people picked on her.

"Potter?" Roger asked aloud. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you three the same, but I think we all know what you're doing. Give it back to the girl, Marietta." The warning sounded more threatening in his head. Aloud, it was just a squeaky voice.

"Potter, get out of here. This is inter-house business," Belby ordered.

"It seems you don't do a good job of taking care of your own house."

"You little shit. I always hated Slytherins." Marietta was totally ignoring Loony at this rate, an accomplishment so far.

"And I always hated ugly people. Guess we're both stuck there." Harry shrugged ineffectually.

From an early age, Harry realized that attacking a strength was a decent ploy. Marietta was pretty, to an objective and unseasoned eye, and any threat of that attractiveness was seen as an immediate affront. Roger, obviously older than the other two, must have realized what Harry was doing. Yet, he was a little too late.

"Marietta, don't!" He cried, but there was no stopping her.

" _Stupefy!"_

It was an obvious spell, so transparent that Harry had already begun planning his next series of spells before she even said it. Marietta, he could handle. Just from that brief moment of torture she had enacted on Loony, Harry knew she was impatient and uncontrolled. Though her mark was on target, Harry produced a weak shield and ducked to simply deflect it. He shot back with a Jelly-Legs Jinx, but that wasn't his true intention. In a successive motion, he swept his wand upwards, dousing her with a spray of water that provoked a shrill scream.

He didn't mean to stun her. He meant to embarrass her.

"Roger! Do something!" Marietta screamed.

But Roger balked, looking warily at Harry. Unlike Marietta, this one had a brain.

 _So its true that Ravenclaws are at least somewhat intelligent_.

"Roger! Belby!" She stamped her foot, her hair stringy and ratty from the water.

Roger conferred with Belby, whispering behind a cupped hand while he kept his eyes on Harry. Harry relaxed his posture somewhat, his wand still at his side and the moon to his back, obscuring him slightly. After a moment, Roger broke the impromptu conference.

"Get out of here, Potter," he ordered.

"Don't tell him to get out of here,  _punish him!_ " She was apoplectic, sure to attract a Prefect or a professor.

"Shut up, Marietta!" Roger yelled back at her. "There's no point in continuing this and your stupid screams are going to wake every professor up and send them this way." Turning to Harry, he took a deep breath after he finished berating his fellow Ravenclaw. "Go, Potter. We'll leave Lovegood alone."

But Harry kept his ground, intent on sending a message. It wasn't enough that they would leave her alone this time. "Excuse me if I don't believe you."

"Potter..." Roger impatiently growled, "...this is none of your business."

"But it's our business now."

Tracey appeared from behind them, her wand drawn and unlike Harry, she had it pointed at the older Ravenclaws. Blaise and Pansy flanked her, their wands drawn but more apprehensive looks on their faces. Only Tracey seemed unfazed, but Harry knew the older Ravenclaws were more than capable of handling her. All together though, they stood a fighting chance.

"Oh you have to be shitting me. Roger! These are a bunch of Third Years! Let's take care of them," Marietta pointed her wand at Tracey.

It was Belby who intervened.

"Roger, let's go," he said quietly. "The situation isn't in our favor."

_So Ravenclaws are capable of thought._

And Harry knew that Belby wasn't talking tactically. It was three versus four, but Belby and Marietta were both Fourth Years and Harry knew that Roger Davies was definitely a Fifth Year or higher. Stronger and more experienced, they could give them a good fight even outnumbered. But Belby was talking about overall justification. Their original reasons for leaving the Common Room so late at night was kaput and since there was no point in tormenting Lovegood in front of others, it was a zero sum situation for them.

"Let's go, Marietta," Roger said with ice in his voice and a glare sent in Harry's direction.

Her mouth dropped, droplets of water falling from her drenched robes. "You can't be serious!"

" _Now_ , Marietta," Roger ordered one more time, ascending the staircase without looking back. Belby was lone gone up the stairwell.

Four against one, Marietta wasn't so confident.

She sent a withering look at Lovegood, a promise that she would pay later for this intervention, but fellowed the older Ravenclaws until they were out of sight. Once she was finally gone, Harry relaxed the grip on his wand and sighed. Lovegood immediately rushed over to the puddle of water, picking up her necklace of bottle caps and holding it tightly against her chest. Tracey approached Harry, a none too happy look on her face.

"Fancy meeting you here," Harry chirped.

"I'll have time to yell at you later, you stupid ass. We need to get out of here before professor's arrive."

Harry nodded once, accepting that  _his_  bullies weren't out tonight. Pansy and and Blaise were already walking forward as lookouts. Turning to Tracey, Harry asked, "How'd you find me anyways?"

Tracey huffed, "Pansy saw you leaving the Common Room as she was on her way back -"

"What was  _she_  doing out?"

"Snogging someone."

"Who?"

"Does it matter?!" Tracey threw her hands in the air. "After wandering around for a while, we heard screaming and yelling and came your way."

Harry opened his mouth to ask another question but a floaty voice stopped him.

"Harry!"

It was Lovegood, chasing after them with something clutched in her hand. It wasn't the necklace of bottle caps, but a neatly folded parchment.

"You dropped this," she said breathlessly.

"Oh." Harry immediately snatched it from her hand. "Why...errr...thank you."

"And thanks," she mumbled quietly. "You didn't have to do that."

Tracey was tugging at his arm as Blaise ran his finger in a circle, the universal motion for,  _get a move on!_  But Harry wanted to leave one morsel of advice for this girl.

"Don't show fear, Loony. Especially to Marietta."

Her lower lip trembled, obtusely wide eyes as large as saucers. "But I'm not as good as dueling as you."

"You don't have to be," Harry explained, "You'll probably lose, but they won't like it. They won't like it one bit if you're not scared."

He knew the lesson sounded paradoxical. Why tell her to be scared if he knew she would continued to be picked on. Yet, it was when Harry stood in the face of Dudley and it was when he didn't cry or show fear to Vernon that enraged them the most. They bullied him to feel powerful and nothing felt as powerless as ineffectiveness.

"You'll understand," Harry patted her on the head and turned away with Tracey's insistence.

"Harry! The parchment. I don't know what it means, but all the numbers add up to a 100," Luna quickly spit out, aware they had to move on.

"Oh Merlin," Tracey groaned, forcefully pulling Harry's arm at this point. "Who gives a bloody damn about Granger's secret parchment."

 _I do_.

The four Slytherins darted back to their Common Room amidst approaching teachers and away from Luna Lovegood, standing in a puddle of water with a necklace of bottle caps clutched tightly to her chest.

* * *

"He showed action...and moral courage."

"Better yet, he knowingly faced adversaries stronger than he. I only wish the Davis girl wouldn't have interrupted. He underestimates his capabilities. Edgecombe and Belby would have been defeated and he would have given Davies a challenge."

"He's not ready for that just yet. Strongest in his Year? By far, but power grows with maturity. His body is still learning."

"I only wish that the Muggleborn girl weren't so involved. His obsession with her child's notes are cumbersome to his learning."

"But he's learning to think differently and once he cracks her simple code, perhaps he will be more perceptive to critical awareness instead of overpowering all of his opponents."

"Her notes have no application outside of this school. She is limited and I don't know why you insist with her."

"She is  _different_. The boy has surrounded himself with people that say yes to his every whim. Even the Davis girl can't say no to him, but the Muggleborn girl...she's different."

"She's mundane, an act that will quickly be sussed out once everyone discovers her means of victory. It is not special, just a cheap trick that others are unaware of."

"I would hardly call it a trick."

"I don't care what to call it. Once he is done with this stupid exercise, I want no more of her influence."

"Come now, she is not dangerous to his learning."

"Yes, she is."

"...she won't hurt him."

"Then what is her purpose? What is the meaning beyond this? Her powers of intellect are unquestionable, but I can't give him her brain. There is so much to be done and yet you insist with the Muggleborn."

"She is  _good for him_. She makes him question herself. An ounce of humility will go a long way to his progress in self-assessment."

"She will  _destroy_  him. He will question himself until he's unable to perform in a duel. He will question himself so much that he will shred apart his strong base. Do you not see how the Davis girl looks at him?"

"And what are you so afraid in the Muggleborn that you aren't afraid of in Davis?"

"That is not what this is about."

"It  _is_ about this! He needs to build relatio-"

" _I DON'T WANT HIM TO BUILD RELATIONSHIPS! I WANT HIM TO SUCCEED!"_

"...I apologize. You are directing this."

"I am and you have grown too bold. There will come a time when the darkness will return and I have not rebuilt this school, changed the governing board, and reshaped students for years to come just to build some inane relationship. He is here for one purpose and for one purpose only."

"I understand..."

"But? I know you mean to interject something here."

"...I think you may find that it will be more difficult to control Harry Potter than you think."


End file.
